Of Catalysts and Dreams
by E. Jane
Summary: An unforeseen twist to a forgotten tale of dreams leaves Sarah with a choice, and a second chance.
1. I:Memories on Petals

Disclaimer:I do not own Labyrinth, Phantom of the Opera, nor any characters or songs from the aforementioned. The only thing I take credit for is the plot and any characters I have created. This story was created solely for the joy of writing-I hope you enjoy it.

E. Jane

* * *

I

Memories on Petals

He gathered from her frantic expression that she was nervous, and yet Sarah  
composed herself easily in the wings of the stage. She stepped into full view  
effortlessly, all traces of fear gone from her face. Delicately she took position at  
the very center of the scene, the white gown flowing around her, crystals in her  
hair. Jareth thought back to another fairytale gown, but stilled the memory as the  
music swelled around him.

The box itself was lavish, rich in soft cushions and long curtains, overlooking the  
stage. He had been lucky that the occupants left when they did. The young man  
and his lady had, somehow, gotten a box all to themselves despite coming to the  
play with overbearing chaperones. Not long after the opening scene they had  
stolen out the back to will away the time as they pleased, at least until the end of  
the performance. Jareth thought it a shame to leave the box empty and crept into  
it's shadows once they were gone. After all, he was already here. Intently he  
listened as Sarah's voice-no, Christine's voice-brightened the theater, bringing  
new life to acclaimed 'Phantom' scene.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye  
Remember me once in a while, please promise me you'll try  
When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free  
If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me..."

He had never seen this play before, nor heard this song. And yet the words struck  
a chord in him that was unidentifiable-familiar, even. Thinking, he closed his eyes  
as if trying to remember.

"We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea,  
But if you can still remember, stop and think of me.  
Think of all the things we've shared and seen,  
Don't think about the way things might have been."

His eyes flashed open to find her gaze pleading up into his box. His heart stilled for  
a beat, but she turned elegantly to a different part of the audience. She had not  
recognized him. Even so, Jareth drew a little farther into the shadows, wrapping  
the dark around him like a cloak.

"Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned  
Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind  
Recall those days, look back on all those times. Think of the things we'll never do.  
There will never be a day when I won't think of you..."

Her voice was tugging at the air, the passionate plea spilling from her lips. For a  
moment he almost believed her.

Then a man stepped onto the stage, clapping and shouting, "Bravo!" Then,

"Can it be? Can it be Christine?"

Sarah bowed to the applause, a sweeping flourish of the skirts.

"Long ago...it seems so long ago.  
How young and innocent we were!"

A smile played on the king's lips, one of wry irony. Without thinking he silently  
mouthed the words Raoul sang on the stage, words he thought he did not know.

"She may not remember me, but I remember her..."

Sarah had moved, catching the light once more. She threw the beams around the  
theater, bouncing from her crystal-laden hair. Her eyes were full, a faint smile on  
her lips.

"Flowers fade. The fruits of summer fade.  
They have their seasons, so do we.  
But please promise me that sometimes,  
You will think of...me!"

If only she knew. He retreated completely into the shadows then, and vanished.

* * *

Sarah returned to bow with her fellow actors at the end of the performance, once  
again enveloped in the airy folds of the white dress. The crystals had been neatly  
re-pinned in her hair, breaking up the spotlight and cascading it over the stage and  
orchestra below. On her right she gripped hands with the Phantom, and Raoul on  
her left. No one missed the wide smile on her lips-it had been, after all, a flawless  
performance.

With a third bow the curtain thumped to a close and all of the actors turned to give  
cheers of delight to one another. It was a shame it had been closing night, but  
after several weeks of performing they were exhausted. Happily exhausted, but  
exhausted nonetheless. Following a few moments of excitement, they separated  
to change hastily out of the cumbersome costumes. The highly anticipated  
after-show party was waiting for them. Sarah hurried to her small dressing room,  
filled with bouquets from that week's admirers. Of course her family's held the  
spot of honor on the small vanity. Toby had handpicked the flowers and tied them  
with a red ribbon himself, and she smiled every time she saw them. Carefully she  
sat on the stool and began extracting the crystals from her hair.

Having her own dressing room was nice, if a little awkward. She had never been  
given the luxury of privacy in all of her six years of acting and found it unsettling to  
be so alone. But the director would not have it any other way. Sarah sighed as the  
last pin left her hair, and she placed it in a silk-lined box with the rest of it's  
companions. Gently she shook her tresses, trying to release them from the  
hair-sprayed bondage. Looking again to Toby's flowers, she reached out to finger  
a petal. They tickled her memory, reminded her of something she had seen long  
ago, climbing the walls of some enchanted place...

A loud knock interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Sarah?" a woman's muffled voice  
asked.

"Come in!" She dropped the petal and turned in her seat to face the door. It  
opened slowly, a rump preceding it's owner through the frame. Sarah stifled a  
laugh behind her hand as Mrs. Lowry came in backwards carrying something large  
with her. The acting coach had worked with Sarah for years and somewhere along  
the way became like a fairy godmother. Gray curls bouncing, she huffed into the  
room, lugging an impossibly large bouquet in after her. Sarah gasped loudly when  
she saw it in it's entirety, but the cry was muffled as the bouquet was placed in her  
lap. She could barely see over it's top as she cradled it in her arms.

The plump woman, still huffing with hands on her hips, eyed the girl, waiting for a  
reaction. When Sarah did nothing but gape she chuckled. "Well, well. Can you  
imagine? Must be three-dozen red roses there! And every single one a perfect  
bloom!"

Sarah looked up blankly.

"Fess up, girl. Who is he?" Mrs. Lowry sighed.

"He?" She furrowed her brow and turned back to the roses. "There is no 'he!'"

The instructor hung her arms in defeat. "Good heavens, are you sure?" Sarah  
nodded. Hard.

"Simply amazin'! Three dozen perfect roses from a bloomin' stranger-"

"Wait!" Sarah bounced excitedly in her seat. "Look, a card!" She withdrew the  
tiniest of envelopes from the white tissue folded about the flowers. Her name was  
the only thing on it, carefully written in an elegant script she did not recognize.  
Mrs. Lowry clapped her hands together joyfully. Then, seeming to remember  
something, rushed to Sarah's side and rested a hand on the envelope. The girl  
stopped trying to open it and looked questioningly at her teacher.

Silently the older woman cupped her student's face in her hands. "Sarah, my dear,  
you positively glowed tonight. I have never been so proud. You know I think of  
you as a daughter, a precious gift I've never had."

Sarah's eyes automatically filled and threatened to spill. "I know," she smiled.

"I'm going to check upstairs-come on when you're ready." She laid a gentle kiss  
on her forehead, turned, and disappeared behind the door.

Eyes still swimming, she tore eagerly at the thick paper. Inside was a single white  
card, the message written in the same elegant script.

_Sarah,_

_Many years have passed since our meeting, and no doubt little remains  
in your memory of me. Such are the rules of the Labyrinth. However, seeing as  
how you are the one and only victor of my challenge, I have lifted the enchantment  
around you. Certain circumstances of the Underground have led me to vast  
revelations-truly the fate of the world, both mine and yours, may rest in your  
hands. I will find you, to explain properly when the time arises. For now I can only  
offer my condolences for the pain you will remember. Until then._

The note was unsigned. A faint tingling in her fingertips began as Sarah replaced  
the card into it's envelope. What on Earth-

A searing pain shot through her limbs, from her tingling fingers, up her arm, up her  
neck, and into her head. The scream never came, but her head fell into her lap  
atop the roses. She clutched her hands to her temples in wicked agony. Her blood  
was boiling, brain exploding, heart pounding-

And then it ended. Just like that. She opened her eyes, breathing forcefully into  
her lap. The roses had spilled to the floor, pooling like a puddle of blood against the  
white rug.

Sarah remembered.


	2. II:Wishing and Wine

II

Wishing and Wine

At least the room was poorly lit in order to attempt a romantic mood. That way it was very difficult to see the strained look on Sarah's face. She twirled the stem of her wineglass between trembling fingers and watched the noisy party before her.

As tradition, the small "ballroom" in the local hotel had been reserved for the celebrating actors. They ate, drank, danced, and laughed(loudly) all over the place. Sarah had always thought the location a little upscale for their shenanigans, but it didn't matter. When you were paid well, you could spend your riches in an elaborate fashion. She slumped in her seat, the only sitting figure in the room, and stared moodily into the scarlet liquid before her.

He could be anywhere-he could be here right _now_. Her body tensed, palpitations drumming mercilessly in her chest. What was he going to do to her? The girl who beat him, broke him down, his enemy-the Goblin King was going to slaughter a certain Sarah Williams, she was sure of it. But that note...had an almost pleading edge to it. A desperate, if somewhat formal, hint for help. That puzzled her to no end. Why would a revengeful villain require her aid unless...a trap. Of course. Wasn't that what Jareth was known for? Deceit and trickery for his amusement at the expense of others. That thought sent her blood boiling. How DARE he use her this way. How DARE he cause her the pain of remembering those trials. As much as Sarah missed her old friends, her saviors on that quest, and the breathtaking world of her fantasy, the real world was dispassionately ignorant of the Underground's existence, and she believed herself(now that she remembered the truth) to be better off that way as well. Now how could she function in everyday life, knowing she was being stalked by a chimerical antagonist of dreams? Instantly the girl knew that she could not rest while paranoid with the thought of an inevitable visit from the Goblin King. Although it had not revealed any information on when or where, the letter _had_ claimed he would seek her out to expound on the issue. "Well, he better," Sarah groused to the tablecloth. "He has a LOT of explaining to do, the dirty ba-"

"Sarah, darling, come and dance!" Mrs. Lowry shuffled over, rather bright spots on her cheeks. A champagne glass, nearly empty, tipped precariously toward a passing couple. Sarah giggled despite herself-it probably wasn't her first taste that evening. A sympathetic look wondered over the older woman's features. "Still got a headache, m'dear?" She nodded without waiting for an answer and patted Sarah's shoulder. "Jus' rest then. I'll be back soon!" and she swung back into the crowd.

Headache indeed, but for entirely different reasons that her teacher believed. It was better than the whole truth, certainly. What was she supposed to do when the worried woman found Sarah clutching her head in the dressing room, flowers littering the floor? Breathing like she'd run a marathon, shaking like she'd seen a ghost... Which, she thought, she had. In a sense. Something told her the tall, ethereal figure hiding in the shadows of box number three that evening was not from the spirit world, but haunted her nonetheless.

The bitter thoughts of anger turned quickly to annoyance. It was strange, when she thought about it. Sure, he had terrified her all those years ago, and still did while his motive for visiting was unknown. She had won, defeated him and saved Toby from life as a goblin. So what business could he possibly have with her now? She did not know if she could stand to see his cruel eyes again, the way they read her, played with her mind. But presently it would be better than suffering in silence, waiting...

Sarah shivered involuntarily and took a sip of the wine. Just a sip. She could not afford to lose herself in the alcohol's forgetfulness, however much she wanted just that. She needed her wits about her, just in case-

"Excuse me, miss-"

"Ah!" She jumped nearly out of her chair, barely keeping the wine inside the fragile container. A hand fluttered over her mouth to still the outburst.

The poor busboy cocked an eyebrow, reached out to remove the plate in front of her, and backed away without a word.

Sarah groaned quite audibly and put the glass as far from her reach as possible. She slumped her head onto the place where her plate had been moments before, food barely touched, and closed her eyes.

"Dammit, Jareth," she thought aloud. She had only ever heard that name uttered in an eerily similar fashion by a distraught dwarf. "I'm going to go mad-if there's something you need to say to me, I wish you could just get it over with!"

Panic overcame her, stomach twisting painfully. She wrenched her mouth open, jerking her head up off the table, which only added to her increasing sense of vertigo. "Oh, no..."

"You would have thought that after your little incident, the words 'I wish' would cease to exist in your vocabulary."

She closed her eyes again. There had been no glitter. No gust of air. No movement withing ten feet of her. And yet he was in the chair beside her. She could feel him there, even if she could not bring herself to look. Nimble fingers found the discarded glass and she emptied the contents in one gulp.

Had her eyes been open, Sarah would have seen the newcomer arch a delicate blond eyebrow at her crude behavior. She also would have seen the cruel smirk on his lips, the way his fingers were laced patiently in his lap, and how his legs were crossed as he leaned back in his seat. Bored. Like he owned the bloody hotel.

After a steadying breath she set the glass down, a little more forcefully than was intended, and rounded on him before she had time to regret the decision. "You-"

"Yes?" His lips barely moved, but his eyes sparkled dangerously, form half hidden by shadows.

Sarah tried to shape words, but nothing came out. Finally she narrowed her eyes and hissed, "Explain. Yourself."

"Of course. I have every intention of doing so. Too bad, I thought since you've grown up you could afford some manners..." He shrugged.

"_Now_," she said a little louder, snarl marring her beautiful face. What a pity.

"Now, now, Sarah. Rudeness will get you nowhere." Wide eyed, she watched as he uncrossed his legs, only to prop two booted feet on the table. She returned a raised eyebrow of her own. He did nothing.

Jareth really hated doing this to her, but felt it was absolutely necessary. He was a king, and would not resign himself to begging quite yet. No, it was best to administer a healthy dose of uncertainty...let her know he was still powerful. Never mind that she had bested him. While that thought certainly amazed him, intrigued him, even, he could not let that weakness show. Not yet. His pride could not deal with the idea of Sarah having the upper hand, even though that was certainly the truth. Besides, he really loved the way she looked when caught. Confusion flickered there for a moment, then a brilliant spark in her eyes. Sarah stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her chair, and darted for the exit.

He sighed heavily, sinking into the seat. Why did she have to be so _difficult_ about it? With a snap of his fingers he was gone.

Her breath was nonexistent-as she reached the door she chanced a look over her shoulder. He had disappeared. But that one moment of weakness was instantly regretted when she smacked into an unseen object in the dark. In her surprise Sarah almost tumbled to the floor, and the long skirts of her best black dress were tangling around her ankles-she could not move. Strong arms wound around her from the dark and she righted herself reflexively. Cold mismatched eyes met her own.

"Let go of me!" She struggled against his iron embrace hysterically, to no avail.

Jareth sighed and looked at the ceiling, but did not budge. Quickly she gave up her escape attempt and managed a cold stare. "Sarah, I am not going to hurt you." His tone held something like extreme patience, an unusual characteristic to his past demeanor.

"Then why the hell are you here?" she hissed back, aware that sooner or later the rest of the cast was going to notice her in the arms of Mystery Man. She was still pushing with a fair amount of force at his chest to widen the distance between them. However little effect it actually held, Sarah did it instinctively because at least she was doing _something_. _ANYTHING_. No way was this going anywhere without a fight.

"Because," he drawled. "You called me."

That shut her up.

"I was going to come in the morning, but you are impatient, as always." Carefully he pressed his gloved hand into the small of her back, guiding her back inside. She mildly protested, but there was no real effort behind it. His other arm was draped snugly over her shoulders-no escape. She tried heading back to her chair, safety in solitude, but he shook his head and swung her onto the dance floor. Her heart was in her mouth, the entire room was looking-

And then they weren't. She frowned. The _Goblin King_ was in their midst, and they didn't even notice?! That was when she looked. Really looked. Yes, he was the same cruel king, smirk and all. But his hair was different, pushed back from his face like he'd run his hands through it, and fell just past the jawbone. There was no makeup, no glitter. Only a dark pair of slacks, crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and...leather vest. Some things never change.

Of course he took advantage of Sarah's confusion. Jareth swept a hand around her waist and cradled her fingers in the other as if she was breakable. She noticed, coming out of her reverie, that they were dancing. Slowly. He chuckled when her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Been a while since we danced, hmm?" He was towering over her, too close.

It was wrong, so wrong-didn't he understand how this was affecting her? It was like taking that peach-induced illusion, the heart of her childhood, and openly mocking it in a poor replication via adult life. Like comparing Broadway to that one high school play where everyone forgot their lines. But she couldn't let him see that. Deftly she avoided the question with one of her own. "What was with your little display of roses, Goblin King?"

His smile widened ever so slightly, and Sarah was marginally upset that he had not given a more melancholy reaction, something akin to her own feelings. "The most exquisite bouquet receives the most attention. It was my way of getting the message to you as quickly as possible...express mail, of sorts. Besides, I'm sure you enjoyed them."

Sarah frowned as they continued to dance, remembering that she had, indeed, enjoyed them. Even now, she could not help the tingling in the air between them. Damn. "Why the hurry?" she choked out.

"All in good time. This may not be the most appropriate place..." he mused, gaze wondering around to the couples beside them.

She opened her mouth to protest but a glove finger pressed against them. "Not here." How was he pulling off those gloves?! "Let's make a more...subtle retreat than last time, shall we?" For a moment she wondered if he meant her recent flight or the past masquerade. The music was slowing, coming to a wavering halt. Another song-bright, fast, heated, electric-was on, and people were jumping, literally, onto the dance floor. Without a second thought Sarah began yanking the Goblin King through the crowd. She never let go of his hand, not even once they were beyond the masses, but tugged him with such force toward the exit that they both nearly landed in a heap.

They stumbled outside, down the steps, Sarah practically running now. He could have stopped her whenever he pleased, but thought it better to give her some measure of control for the moment. Especially after that look in her eyes-fear, perhaps? Or mistrust? Jareth felt a twinge of regret for making her unnecessarily suspicious...he might have played up the villain complex a little too much. But, something whispered inside, this was better than her absolute rejection. His self confidence in the matter was startling overrated, he realized. They would get nowhere this way. She was gripping his fingers almost painfully, as if he would disappear if she dropped his hand.

Her brain was in overdrive, and somehow her racing thoughts sped up her feet. Maybe it was because walking sedately down the crowded street with Jareth's hand in her own would be more than awkward, but running with it seemed absolutely alright. Pulling him after was similar enough to putting him behind, out of the way where she did not have to address the issue immediately. Surely he would vanish again if she released him, and that could NOT happen. Sarah wanted answers, and the sudden urgency to get them was acutely painful. But not until they were somewhere else-so she dashed through the hordes of people winding in and out of the street shops, alone with her thoughts for the moment and the heady effects of that wine.

Several long minutes later, just when she thought herself done in with running, they came to a small house on the outskirts of town. Actually, the word cottage was a more appropriate term for the dwelling-small, snug, safe. The brick was a deep red and little shuttered windows adorned the sides, with a stone walk leading to the front door. As soon as she reached it Sarah dropped Jareth's hand like it was made of fire and dove to the welcome mat. After fumbling clumsily and extracting the spare key, she opened the door and stomped over the threshold.

Jereth came in a bit more calmly and shut the door behind him, a strangely human gesture of politeness. He surveyed the short dark hallway and room beyond in a large sweeping circle, coming to a halt at Sarah's back. She had stopped still, stuck, hand poised to turn on the lamp beside her. It was already lit, although she had turned it off before she left...

Her skin took on an extreme white and her hands went limp. The tiny silver key clutched in her palm fell, bouncing on the wooden floor with a musical ping.

Without warning her breath hitched, heart skipped, and Jareth watched as she fainted dead away.


	3. III:Scent of the Past

Hello, everyone. Just wanted to say thanks a million for all of the lovely comments and support-it makes me want to write more and more. I have several chapters written already, so it's really only a matter of editing and time before I can get them posted. Here are two new chapters(yes! two!) for you-they seem to flow together and should be read as such. I know the plot has been a little slow thus far, but chapter four fixes that. Enjoy!

E. Jane

* * *

III

Scent of the Past

Jareth, quick as his catlike reflexes were, nearly did not catch her in time. Sarah plummeted dangerously to the left, head rolling, limbs losing rigidity with alarming speed. Only a foot from the floor her head jerked as Jareth caught her shoulders. Pale in his own right, eyes slightly wide, he sank to his knees and lowered her to the floor.

"Sarah?" A slight shake. Nothing. "Sarah!"

He did not notice the other four in the room come bounding to their lady's aid. Blatantly the king ignored the shouts of surprise and horror, and the kick his leg had received.

"What did ya do to 'er? I'll rip yer head off, Jareth, you rat!" He did not even notice the tiny fists pummeling him or when the barking began.

"Ambrosius, that is no way to_-whoa!"_

Jareth was thrown backwards onto the hard floor by a furry white mass. Somehow he managed to keep Sarah with him, her head helplessly atop his chest.

"Ambrosius, HEEL!"

Reluctantly the shaggy dog withdrew to his master's side, but growled all the way. Wincing, he sat up slowly, cradling the girl's head. Still she did not stir.

"Sawah? Sawah hurt!" came a roar, but Jareth was too busy. He leaned low over the girl's mouth and a wave of air tickled his ear. She was breathing.

Moaning slightly from his own fall, he crouched, then gathered the unconscious Sarah into his arms. Delicately he laid her on the worn-looking couch across the room.

No sooner was his hold on her released than something sharp stung his leg. Jareth looked down in mild surprise to find a small fox, dressed like a knight, poking his lance into various parts of his boots. He frowned in irritation before sitting down by Sarah's feet.

"What hast thou done to upset our fair maiden so?" the fox growled angrily, still attempting to jab Jareth's shins. With a sigh the king snatched the lance and pulled it up, along with its wielder, to face him. The fox dangled from the weapon, feet kicking wildly, but would not relax his grip.

"It was not _me_. It was _you_," he drawled, then unceremoniously dropped Didymus to the floor. Really, it was tiresome the way Sarah's friends had turned from loyal to traitorous. Not dangerous, but certainly inconvenient. As if they expected dishonorable actions from him, which was absurd. But perhaps...it was time to put the lofty act aside. Well, at least the part that was not in his nature.

"Friends no scare Sawah!" Ludo protested, his large shaggy frame almost too much for the tiny house. He resigned himself to the floor, still the tallest form there.

"I'm afraid so." Jareth rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "I forgot you were here already, girl had to go and rush things..."

"Look here!" Hoggle climbed onto the arm of the couch so that he was face-to-face with his king. "You sent us here tah talk tah Sarah 'bout what's goin' on Underground, and we worry 'cause she never comes home! Then YOU come in-" he jabbed a stubby finger into Jareth's chest, which was lazily swatted away, "and she keels over! You did somethin' to 'er!" That adventure so long ago had definitely encouraged the dwarf's self esteem, especially when it came to the Goblin King. If Sarah was involved, you could make very safe, very _large_ wagers that Hoggle was going to have a few choice words, whether or not Jareth cared to hear them.

And most often, that was not.

Jareth gave a long-suffering sigh, one of many that evening, and closed his eyes. "Higgle-"

"Hoggle!"

"-Sarah did not remember you existed until a few hours ago. I believe the memory spell was too much for her-rather painful, I'd imagine. And you gave her a bit of a shock just now."

"You DID hurt 'er, I knew it!" Hoggle yelled, ramming himself at Jareth. Eyes still closed, he merely reached out and halted the offending skullcap.

"Hogshead, my magic is waning." The struggling dwarf mumbled something inaudible into Jareth's glove. "While your company is...fascinating, I'm going to have to send you all back. Otherwise the magic required to keep you here will leave us stranded."

Hoggle gave a last heroic swing of his fist but miscalculated sorely. The force sent him tumbling backwards off the couch and onto the floor.

"We shall not leave the lady's side!" Didymus proclaimed, hitting his chest in salute. Ambrosius ran to the couch to nuzzle Sarah's face in agreement.

"Ludo no want stuck," the beast moaned, "but no leave Sawah." He shook his mane vehemently.

"I'm afraid you really have no say in the matter. But you will be back in the morning. I have a feeling your lady is going to need a fair amount of...persuasion." Jareth brought a hand to his face, fingers ready to snap.

"Alright." Hoggle had picked himself up off the floor and crossed his arms angrily. "But when we get back, if you've so much as looked at 'er funny-"

"Goodbye, Haggle." With a snap the four friends disappeared, but a faint echo of "It's Hoggle!" was left behind. He smirked.

A low moan escaped Sarah's lips, and Jareth turned to find her frowning as if in deep concentration. Without thinking, he had kneeled by the couch, a gloved hand smoothing her hair. "I know, love, remembering is hard. It will pass." Her breathing eased, but the frown remained. He noticed there was nothing to cushion her heavy head. In fact-he stood to examine the room-there were no cushions. At all. "Well, to bed with you, then." He began to scoop her up, but a ragged moan, louder than the first, stopped him. Gently he replaced her back onto the couch. "I've never tried a memory spell Aboveground," he muttered. "Perhaps my decrease in magic made it uncooperative-"

As if on cue, he felt a sudden weariness creep over him. His body was numb with the effort of the night's magic, and was trying to shut down to right itself. "Fine, fine," he grumbled when his vision suddenly blurred. He lifted Sarah into an almost-sitting position despite her groans, carefully sitting back on the couch and resting her head on his knees. Boots found the coffee table and crossed over one another. His head tilted back involuntarily, the sudden weakness alarming, but luckily it rested on the back of the couch. His hands were still in her hair, he mused, as exhaustion took him under.

* * *

Sarah knew she was alive because death was not so painful. The throbbing in her head was proof enough of that.

Sarah also knew she was at home. The smell gave it away-sweet ashes in the fireplace and dog smell on the couch after Merlin had occupied it all those years. The wild flowers growing on the hill behind the cottage smelled like honey, and the scent traveled on the summer breeze all around the tiny home.

There was another aroma, though, that she couldn't quite place. It wasn't of the house, and yet was startlingly familiar. Faintly it reminded her of rain after a thunderstorm mixed with a darker, musky scent. She frowned. Where had she smelled that before?

Without thinking she inhaled deeply-it smelled so good she could not resist. It made her feel as if she was laying in the sunshine, or by the fire during a snowstorm. Warm. Still the source eluded her, but Sarah's brain did not care. Whatever it was, her nose was directly in it, and she could stay here as long as she liked...

Except for her damn pillow, gone lumpy again. That would never do. How could she indulge in this newfound glory to her senses if her head was uncomfortable? Groggily she tried to pound it into a more preferable shape, until it groaned. Loudly.

Something in her brain snapped. Pillows don't groan, moron.

People do.

Her eyes opened slowly, finding the braided rug on the floor, sunlight spilling in from the window behind her and onto the coffee table. And onto the black boots _on_ the coffee table.

She let her line of vision trail up, from the toe of the boots to the black slacks, and, in front of her face, knees.

When she gasped Sarah inhaled a fair amount of that ridiculously delicious scent-for a moment her mind sprawled, but she collected herself enough to jerk away and propel to the opposite end of the couch.

Once she had settled her pulse, Sarah was alarmed to find it speeding up again. There was Jareth asleep on her couch, completely and utterly real. He looked so...vulnerable, she decided. Posture slack and head lolling. The window behind the couch was letting in all of the early afternoon light, filtering through his golden locks to turn them white, as if proving that he was not of this world. Dust motes swirled lazily in the beams, like some ancient magic wafting over his frame.

Wait...

No, just dust.

She noted the tortured look on his face and winced. Jareth's eyes were shut tight, his mouth drawn into a thin line. The muscles in his neck pulled sharply and his chest only rose a little with labored breathing. For some reason fear grappled with her, and she found her hand on his forehead, beneath wild bangs. Under any other circumstance she would not have dared to touch him, but the quiescent king could not know what she was doing. He seemed to relax a little at her cool contact, but barely. His skin was blazing-Sarah's hands tingled with the heat even after she pulled away.

Not knowing what else to do, she ran to the kitchen sink, grabbed a towel from the rack, and filled a bowl with cool water. Some of it spilled on her way to the couch but she couldn't stop her shaking hands. She was so tired-sucked dry, as if she hadn't slept in a week. Her muscles were burning with the simple effort to cross the room, but she guessed the running last night had not helped.

Sarah soaked the rag lightly and lifted it to Jareth's cheek, trying to control her unsteady hand. His face rolled to the side-she had to catch it in her other palm before he fell completely over. His skin was so smooth, like water under her fingers.

"Sarah." It barely escaped his lips, no more than a whisper. But it was something. Her heart leaped, and then she was slightly confused. What do I care? She swept the towel over his brow with a determined scowl. I _don't_, she thought viciously. This was the creature who had represented all of her girlish fears and fantasies, who stole Toby, lied to me, tricked me-

Danced with me.

She sent the little voice in her head flying out her right ear and into a day-old cup of tea on the table. It would take it a few minutes, at least, to get back into her thoughts.

He was cooling down and his breathing returned to normal. Sarah realized that she had been biting her lip in worry, which startled her. Shaking her head, she continued to wipe his face, then down his neck. When she reached his collarbone Jareth turned his face into the hand holding his cheek. She gasped when his lips met her fingers.

Quietly he groaned, furrowed his brow, and Sarah withdrew her hands with lightening speed. Jareth blinked, squinted, blinked again, then dropped his head into a gloved hand.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. Sarah wondered if his head was pounding like hers. Or was that her chest?

"Jareth?"

At the utterance of his name he froze, paralyzed. The Goblin King squinted up at her through gloved fingers, Sarah's face strained with worry. A smile flitted at the corner of his mouth when he noticed she had backed into the table, water sloshing from the bowl there, the wet rag an indication of her concern. But the grin was gone before she could see.

He leaned back onto the couch once more and closed his eyes. Her innocently perplexed expression was something he had missed, and he found the faintest tug of laughter raise the left corner of his mouth. "Good morning, Sarah."

A sigh of relief rushed to her lips, but never passed. Her face was suddenly warm, remembering that she woke up with her head on a particularly nice pair of slacks...

The slap of cold, wet towel on skin startled Sarah more than Jareth. Technically, because _Jareth_ was the one that was now dripping wet with water and had mushy fabric plastered over his face, _he_ should have been shaken up. But it was Sarah, suddenly horrified at her own actions, that was frightened enough to run out the back door and up the hill behind the house.

When the towel dropped, gravity peeling it from Jareth's face and landing with a nasty squelching noise, his mouth was slightly agape, eyes wide. But he could only shake his head and chuckle at it. Still Sarah, after all these years.


	4. IV:Definitions of Dreams and Decisions

IV

Definitions of Dreams and Decisions

She didn't really know how long she'd sat on the hill, but the sun had passed overhead some time ago. It was actually quite hot-the black dress was sticking to her, shoes discarded a few feet away. Sarah laid her head on the knees brought up to her chest and resorted to biting her nails, a habit she'd thought to be broken years ago.

He hadn't chased after her, raving, like she'd expected. And she certainly was not going back in _there_, not until she had her head sorted out. Unfortunately for Sarah the little voice had escaped the teacup, much more soggy than Jareth, and therefore less understanding. Sympathy did not bode well with a wet conscious.

'I'm losing my mind,' she thought.

Her conscious could easily have given a nasty retort about how very nearly it had come to that, but refrained.

Sarah looked at her hands. The memory of his skin under her fingertips caught her breath. 'He's so _unreal_, an ageless fantasy...but he _is_ real! I felt him there!'

Bet you enjoyed that. The voice sounded smug.

'Did not! Only trying to-'

What? Help the Goblin King? Now, what would you do _that_ for?

'Erm...human instincts?'

Nice try.

'Excuse me?!' Now Sarah was more than baffled. At herself, no less.

Honestly, you're blind. You liked the way he smelled, for God's sake. Don't even try to deny that.

Her mouth hung open in silent agitation.

'Fine! Jareth smells...pleasant. But lots of people do!'

Jareth, hmm? Terms of familiarity, too. Sarah, you are getting in deep. And 'pleasant?' How about 'toe-curling, lick-your-lips good?' I think that's loads more accurate.

'You traitorous little-' She was on her feet now, hands balled into fists at her sides. 'You are drastically mistaken! I will prove that you are very. _Very_. Wrong.'

And she left her shoes on the hill as she stomped back to the cottage. The sniggering voice was too preoccupied with victory that the storm clouds were missed. She had no idea what she was going to do to "prove" herself, but it was not what came next.

"Goblin King!" she called him out, purposefully with the full title. The door smacked the wall as it flew open, a loud "bang!" resonating in the room. He wasn't on the couch, nor could she see him through the cut-out that led to the kitchen. Which could only mean he was snooping in the other half of the house. Namely that consisted of a bedroom, a bathroom that hardly counted, and a hallway. Horrified at what he was going to find in the first two, she sprinted around the table and miscalculated. The water that had sloshed out before was still puddled on the wood, quite slippery, and strategically placed by the fates out of her line of vision.

"Goblin K-argh!"

She shut her eyes forcefully, overwhelmed by the sensation that comes only when you find yourself completely and utterly helpless, hands grabbing at air.

Then hair.

It wasn't fair that he could pop in and out of places like that. If she hadn't almost crushed her skull from falling, she was certainly going to die of a heart attack.

Jareth caught her easily but did not wait for Sarah to stand on her own. He merely swung her up into his arms(which can make someone unfairly dizzy) and walked sedately to the couch. For a moment he contemplated throwing her on it, to see what would happen, but decided not to take that chance. Instead he sat himself, with Sarah still in his arms. When she tried to scramble away he let out a musical laugh. A real laugh, like bells-not some sarcastic chuckle.

"My dear, that is the third time I've caught you now. I simply do not trust you on your own two feet, Sarah."

Frowning at the endearment, she shot back, "Maybe I wouldn't be so damn clumsy if you would leave me the hell alone."

"Hmm." He nodded wisely. "Perhaps. But it's either clumsy Sarah or no Sarah at all. And I'm afraid that just will not do."

She rolled her eyes, momentarily forgetting she was twenty-one. "For the love of God, Jareth." The name slipped. "Enough with the cryptic messages. Tell me what is going on around here!"

His rare genuine smile was gone in an instant. Instead of answering he silently pulled her closer. She either did not mind or was too preoccupied to notice. Grudgingly he admitted that, most likely, it was the latter. He let his eyes search her face, pale green gaze, pursed lips, before sighing heavily.

"I'm afraid that may take a while," he admitted.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Then maybe you should get started."

"Alright then. The only way, really, is to start at the beginning." He thought for a moment, eyes unfocused. "Do you remember what I offered you all those years ago?"

"My dreams, but-"

"No, don't interrupt for now. I'll start talking in circles, and somehow I don't think either of us is up for that."

Automatically Sarah was amazed by his changed demeanor. It was no longer haughty or arrogant, but...gentle. Patient, even. Obediently she clamped her mouth shut. This kindly mask could reveal dangerous tendencies if she was uncooperative.

"Now, let's see." Absentmindedly Jareth shifted into a more relaxed position, Sarah still in his lap, but with his arms more comfortably around her. Ridiculously she felt like a child being told a bedtime story.

"Yes, that's correct. I offered you your dreams. Hmm. Let's...go all the way back." Expecting an interruption from Sarah, he paused. But there was none. "People have been dreaming for all eternity. Big, small, insignificant, world changing. All kinds, in every shape and form imaginable. Ultimately dreams are made of wishes, fantasy-things that do not exist inside the natural laws of this world.

"The first humans cared very little for reason or logic. Imagination took up most of the space of their thoughts, aside from basic instincts. Eventually the dreams inside their heads began piling up, and leaked out while they were sleeping. And not all dreams are good. Nightmares are mixed in there, something like a 'dark dream,' born of human fears and despair. Both kinds escaped and fled into the land beyond civilization.

"This continued for a great deal of time-no one knows how long. But soon the world was tearing itself apart. Humans are generally scared of things they do not understand, and they did not understand their own dreams. Nor did they realize the dreams were born of themselves, and a constant battle raged between dream and creator. In fear, the dreams finally created a place for themselves, a haven away from the mortals and their ignorance. They formed another dimension-the Underground."

About a thousand swirling thoughts bubbled up inside Sarah, but she did not stir. Jareth's face was enchanting her as he wove the story, mismatched eyes glittering with millennia of ancient knowledge. This was how stories were supposed to be told, and her childhood wonderment at the fantastic gripped tightly around her heart. She was enraptured. Clearly there was more.

"Nice as it was to have freedom, the dreams were a haphazard bunch. Over the years a monarchy was established to rule the land, tend to needs, keep order. But the world expanded, and the role of king there became less and less important. Eventually the main authority in the Underground became the High King and Court, with my title looked upon as second-best." He tried to keep the grumble out of his voice, but was unsuccessful.

"Remember how the Labyrinth altered and distorted itself?" he asked, recovering quickly. Sarah nodded, remembering her frustration at the ever-changing scenery. "The Labyrinth is the heart of the Underground, the first place the dreams came to. It adjusts itself for the ever fluctuating stream of new dreams. And, probably, because it is in it's nature. I have suspected all these years that the Labyrinth was once someone's dream, too." He smiled smuggly, as if priding himself on the sheer wit of it.

"Once?" She couldn't help the curiousity, and at first worried Jareth was going to reprimand the interruption. His face only seemed to sadden a little.

"There is a legend about the creation of the Underground. It says that upon the dreams' retreat a mortal man made one last attempt at them, somehow stumbling into the new realm during the chase. He knew of their magic powers, knew that they were born of mortals. He argued that they could not leave because the world needs magic to survive, which is true.

"But the persecuted dreams would not return Aboveground, and decided on a trade. For their freedom they would grant every human mortal magic."

Sarah looked with surprise at her own hands. He nodded.

"However, it is not magic in the sense that you would immediately associate it with. Mortal magic is often referred to as 'luck,' or even 'talent.'"

"But not everyone is lucky, or talented! That's hardly a fair trade!" Oops. Fair...

He smirked, but did not make the reference he was dying to at her choice of words.

"You are right. But the mortals were particularly blind to the fact. When the man returned home with his prize he was welcomed as a hero. Humans eventually forgot about the two magics completely-both mortal and dream. Do you know why?"

Obviously she did not. But Sarah played along and shook her head.

"To activate the mortal magic, humans need a kind of...catalyst." Sarah frowned. "A sort of inspiration or trigger. Some people find it, but many do not."

"What a nasty trick!" she huffed.

"Considering that the dreams were being slaughtered or taken advantage of, and that the humans were content with the bargain, I think all's just."

They both sat silently for a moment, pondering different sides of the information. Remembering what had started the conversation, Sarah shook herself from the tangled thoughts. "And this is linked to me, because..."

"Ah, yes. The Aboveground needs magic to stay alive-so does the Underground. People have new dreams every day, a natural part of human existence to keep magic around them. Unfortunately, dreams and mortal magic clash somewhat badly. It is my job to retrieve the larger dreams and offer the mortal's magic in return." As if to demonstrate, he pulled a crystal from the air. "The stronger the dream, the more power it has. Obviously I cannot chase after every little human whim-I only seek out the most sincere dreams and offer mortal magic in return. So, instead of every human having magic, only a select deserving few do. The balance is still proportional enough that our worlds remain peaceful towards one another and the magics do not tear each other apart. Everybody wins." With that he began twirling the orb along his fingers in an exotic rolling motion.

Blinking away from the entrancement, Sarah asked, "But how could you possibly choose, if there are so many dreams?"

"Over the years my job has been tied to a specific set of rules...a code, if you will. On the High Court are the Oracles-they deem dreams to be worthy or unworthy. And, besides that, I cannot come Aboveground to collect dreams unless certain conditions apply."

"As in..." She had turned back to the orb and found that his movements were fanning that scent all about her. Wrapping around her, through her, in her...and the sphere did not help. It seemed to be glass, yet softer. The light from her lamp broke up into tiny fragments and scattered around the room in an array of brilliant colors, just like her thoughts seemed to be now.

Jareth stilled the crystal's motion and held up his gloved hand to count the fingers, unaware of Sarah's sudden attentiveness at it's pause. "The dreams might be cast off fragments of a person's hope, which are easily collected. Or, the dreams might still be a very large part of the person's life, whereas I offer their mortal magic to them in an exchange. I can come Aboveground to search for dreams when the Labyrinth is in dire need of them, but the trip is remarkably easier if a person calls me, via wish. As you can gather, wishing for mortals lately consists of petty desires and not much else. It is no wonder the old legends of me are long since forgotten."

" But people _have_ heard of you-I read about you in that little red book!" she protested back.

"True. Some say that the mortal man, the one who struck the bargain with the dreams, created that book as a reference for future generations. But as the magic became less and less, it must have become legend, and legend became myth..." he mused. "All the same, not everybody has dreams to collect. Pickings are slim."

"But wait, that doesn't make sense! You just-"

"Everyone, at one time or another, has dreams, yes," Jareth tried to explain. What was simple to him obviously was vastly complicated to Sarah. "But some grow out of dreams, some find their catalyst and awaken the mortal magic themselves. Some dreams simply...die." The crystal popped delicately, like a soap bubble. "If people give up hope on themselves, which seems to happen a lot in your world, dreams cannot be born."

"Let me get this straight," Sarah said hotly. "You steal people's dreams to feed that...that morphing nightmare?" Her sudden anger was dampened by Jareth's steely look.

"Never. I never _steal_ anything. I politely offer a trade of dreams for mortal magic, something more compatible to this world." A spark of her childhood antagonist was back, icy and sharp with wretchedness. "Abandoned dreams are offered a home. Then I take the dreams Underground where they flourish, free." In one move Sarah found herself floating in empty space over the couch, then landing with a soft thud back in place. Jareth stood on the far side of the room, leaning against the wall to the kitchen. She had definitely touched a nerve there...

"I still don't understand." Her voice was weak, and Jareth resented his momentary frustration at the girl. How could she comprehend what had taken him a mortal lifetime to learn?

"Do you think me such a monster?" His voice was even softer than hers, all animosity dissipating with hurt . "I'm not some baby-snatching, soul-sucking tyrant."

Her eyes threatened to fill. "No...it's just, before, you took Toby-"

"As you wished. And a powerful wish it was, too. Otherwise I wouldn't have even bothered, or the oracles noticed. But I acted accordingly to my guidelines. When someone refuses their mortal magic, insists on keeping it, which is rare, I give them the opportunity to run the Labyrinth in thirteen hours to claim it. A task no one, with the exception of yourself, has completed. And after the run, they forget in their sleep the hardships of the trek."

"Alright, I get that. But the thing is, you didn't offer me mortal magic. You offered me dreams! I thought you were supposed to retrieve those, not give them."

"This is where the plot thickens," he said darkly, moving from the wall to the window. Rain was washing down the pain. When had it decided to storm?

"You were a strange exception to the rules. That night six years ago, you made a wish to bring me to you. I had been watching you previously-the oracles had deemed your dreams worthy. The thing is, you wished away your catalyst."

"My...wait..." That didn't make any sense!

"Toby was the catalyst to your mortal magic, Sarah. He's encouraged you to act, to sing, to make a new life for yourself." His eyes were distant. "But you did not realize it at the time. Simply..." he wondered off, extending a hand as if a small bird had just taken flight from it. "...wished him away. And so I did the only thing I could do. I took him, like you asked, and offered your dreams."

"If dreams belong Underground, then you could have just given Toby back when I asked!" Her mind could not wrap around the idea. Sarah was frantic, as if reliving that night all over again. "I would have given my dreams up to save him!"

"Rules are rules. You rejected what I offered and had to fight for what you wanted to keep." Bitter. He immediately hated himself for the way that had escaped his lips.

"And I did!" She had left the couch to join him by the window. An unexpected flash of lightening silhouetted his frame like some Hollywood villain, the thunder orchestrating the dramatic music. "I won fair and square, and lost all memories of that night like I was supposed to. So why are you here now?"

Jareth tore his brooding gaze from the storm to search Sarah's face. "Because you _did_ win. At your victory you claimed both your dreams and mortal magic, a dangerous combination. And because you won back a catalyst, something so powerful, you won my dreams, too."

Sarah gaped like a fish, a nasty taste filling her mouth. "What?!"

"Why do you think I made myself such a monstrous adversary, throwing every curve I had at you? You claimed my dreams and took them Aboveground. I have no power over _you_...but you won the game, bested me. _You_ have power over _me_. Sarah-" He turned back to the window. "My dreams are my only magic. It's what lets me come to collect other dreams. All these years the Labyrinth has reserved a certain amount of power to help me fulfil my duties, but it can only last so long. My world will decay without new dreams-the Labyrinth is dying. I'm only here now on a fleeting bit of magic." For a moment he let his eyelids drift shut.

Several thoughts scrambled for purchase in Sarah's mind, and she voiced the first one she could grasp. "Is that why you were sick earlier? With the...effort?" She had never seen him so down before, so defenseless. It was unsettling. His timeless face seemed worn, the usual quirky lips turned down at the corners. He nodded, just once.

"Well, take them back!" she gestured wildly, but he was blind to the movement. Sarah laid a hand on his arm and he marveled at the familiarity in her touch. "Let me give them back to you. I can't let the Underground die!"

"It isn't that simple. I would have come to collect them as soon as you returned home, but I barely had enough power then to transport you Aboveground and return myself. The Labyrinth has patiently collected enough to bring me here for this extended stay. But it's been too long-the dreams and mortal magic have fused together. Inseparable, forever." A twinge of regret sang out in his soul at the last piece of information he withheld. But that loophole was an impossibility, so he said nothing.

Sarah let her hand slide down to his elbow where it dropped to her side. Why had she not seen the sorrow in his eyes until now, or the droop in his shoulders? Realization was dawning on her features. "What will happen to you?"

His eyes flew open at her concern-Sarah's voice was quaking. "If my dreams are separated from the Underground much longer, I will die." She cringed. "As King of the Labyrinth I am tied to the land-one cannot survive without the other. Without me, because I have no heir and there is no one else to take my place, no new dreams can enter the Labyrinth. They will overflow here Aboveground and history will repeat itself. Besides that," her stomach dropped, "certain parties of the Underground have been meaning to take control of your world for eons. With it's weakened state, overrun by foreign magic, they will attempt to seize control of it. And they will win."

Sarah lost it. She dropped into a heap at Jereth's booted feet, hands on the cold floor, and shook her head. "Oh my God...and all because I couldn't tolerate my brother for ONE NIGHT!" The irony of it was absurd. She had thought herself the poor little slave girl, and with one silly wish had crushed an entire world-no, _two _worlds.

And then another thought. A worse thought.

'I've killed the Goblin King.'

It was impossible that anyone had ever felt more horrendous than Sarah Williams did right then. That is, before a notion, small as it was, tickled her mind.

Jareth started as something grabbed the hem of his pants. He looked down to find Sarah yanking a fist-full of the material, fire suddenly alight on her features. "Wait. You said 'if.'"

He only smiled sadly.

"'If' the magic remains separated. And I have your dreams. Take me Underground-take your dreams back Underground!" She jumped back up to his level. "If your dreams are where they belong then you can still do magic and the Labyrinth is saved!" Her face was so gloriously triumphant that he hated to ruin it.

"Sarah, do you realize what you are doing?" He swept his hand around the room. "What you are giving up?" Her face fell, and his stomach twisted in disappointment.

"Yes."

"What?" He had not heard right.

"Yes, I realize that. Never come back...I can't be separated from the Underground." She hung her head. "But to let it die...I couldn't live with myself."

"Sarah..." Gently he cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. Tears spilled over her eyes this time, but she did not care that he saw. "I am so sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen like this." Then a smile twitched on his mouth. "And whoever said you couldn't _visit_ Aboveground?"

Relief bubbled up inside her, shifting the shattered expression on her face into a wide grin. In one moment of pure reckless, hysterical happiness, Sarah jumped and threw her arms about the Goblin King's neck.

"Thank you, Jareth! I would die if I missed Toby's graduation, or someone's wedding, or-"

He laughed that laugh again, like the wind rustling a chime, and his own arms found their way around her back. "It's alright, love. You'll have enough power in time for the occasional outing." Thunder cracked again, white light forked the sky, but in a less ominous way. Sarah told herself it had nothing to do with the current embrace, or the way that Jareth discreetly rested his chin on her shoulder, just below the curve of her neck. "Besides, it is I who should be thanking you."

That little voice could go to Hell-she might get to smell Jareth everyday for the rest of her life...


	5. V:Slivers of Moon

Hullo, all! Here's another chapter for you, good long one, too. Many thanks for the lovely reviews-keep 'em coming! I love hearing what you think!

E. Jane

* * *

V

Slivers of Moon

She tried wishing the mundane pasta into something more elegant-or anything else at all, but no miracles humored her. Sarah had not been grocery shopping for a while because the rehearsal schedule had not allowed time. Actually, the rehearsal schedule had not allowed time for anything un-play-related. Which was bad enough without being forced to make the simple, somewhat embarrassing, dinner while Jareth hovered nearby, taking in her method of cooking(which was not extremely elaborate, Sarah being the farthest thing possible from chef). It was a wonder she had even thought to offer him food in the first place. Mistakenly she had believed they would leave immediately, but Jareth explained his need for a little more rest, time to recuperate before making the journey back Underground. And Goblin Kings did eat, apparently. Anyway, she hoped so, because he had politely accepted her invitation of sustenance.

There was not a lot to do except stir the wilting spaghetti in the large, somewhat dented, pot. Others might have inquired about what the owner of the pot had done to damage it so. Obviously it had nothing to do with cooking-rather, it looked like a little boy who had once worn striped pajamas had fancied turning it into a makeshift drum. Also, instead of proper drumsticks, or even spoons as drumstick-substitutes, it looked as if the child in question had used rather solid ABC building blocks in order to tap out nonrhythmic patterns on the instrument.

Jareth smirked fondly, lounging in the small doorway to the equally small kitchen, and wondered what the rest of Sarah's pots looked like.

She continued to stir round and round, three turns clockwise, three turns counterclockwise. The pasta continued to sink lower into the water, and she continued to watch it, her back to Jareth, at a loss of how to entertain a decidedly real, but previously figment-ed, part of her imagination. Rotating her spins again, Sarah found herself entranced by the swaying movement of the spaghetti in the water, like the hairs of someone floating in the sea. Whoever said that watching water boil was not entertaining? But somewhere in the back of her mind was the realization that Jareth was waiting patiently, watching her every move, content to stay put until she engaged him in some pleasant discourse.

Sarah remembered throwing herself at him, of wrapping her arms about his neck, and shoved her head farther into the steam issuing from the pot in an attempt to hide her reddening face.

Jareth noticed with a little disappointment that she was avoiding him and was unlikely to start a conversation. Her curtain of sable hair neatly hid her face, and she stood at the stove top, back to him. She had not really talked at all after she agreed to come back Underground, except to ask if he cared for some dinner. Which of course he did care for, very much. He had not eaten properly since the day before, and that had been light considering the journey and his...nerves. Jareth blinked at that realization. He, the Goblin King, had been afraid of Sarah's indubitable refusal. A second rejection. Rules, always more rules...but he could not bring her back without her consent. That had been the purpose of gathering her friends the night before, in an attempt to convince her should she prove rebellious. Of course, he would never have had it any other way. Sinister as he could appear, dubious as certain actions of his had been in the past, Jareth was not the type to kidnap. Especially not Sarah. No, he was a bit more gentlemanly than that, he liked to think. He hoped.

She realized that the spaghetti was very done. If she did not remove it from the water soon, it would fall apart and crumble to starchy mush. Sarah twisted her face in the building steam and tried to think of something, anything, to say, to do.

"Jareth?" she tried, raising a ladle full of dripping pasta from the water, pretending to test it, still not looking at him. The limp noodles suddenly seemed very, unreasonably, interesting. Still she had not changed from the long black dress, and remained barefoot on the cold linoleum, feeling slightly on the worse side of awkward for it.

"Hmm?" he purred back casually, stuffing his gloved hands deep into black pockets. So she was speaking now. He waited for her to turn and see him leaning irresistibly against the wall, but she never did. Something in him frowned just a little.

"There's a jar in the refrigerator, on the top shelf, filled with a red sauce. Could you get it for me?" She dipped the ladle again and brought forth a fresh batch of equally limp spaghetti, identical to the one before. Idly she pinched a strand, which severed neatly in two. The bottom half plopped softly back into the rolling boil.

The Goblin King stared at her for a moment, taken aback. But ultimately he found it funny-no one had given him any orders in...well, a very long time. It was oddly refreshing, to be treated as an equal, without the respectable bowing and scraping, even if it meant he had to lower his perspective to a station far below him.

Yet, this was Sarah. She was on equal levels with him, without Jareth having to lower himself in the slightest. He smiled with delight at her figure turning off the burner, pleased that she was choosing not to be afraid of him, of standing up for herself. "Of course."

The sound of his boot heels thumping on the floor echoed, then paused as he stopped to open the fridge door. There was a slight scraping noise of glass on the old metal racks inside, the soft thud of the door closing and the rattling of whatever still resided, waiting to be eaten later. Sarah busied herself in the cabinets above her head and took to ladling copious amounts of overcooked pasta into two bowls, one yellow and one blue. Swiftly she shut the cabinet doors to hide the mix-match collection of china inside. She could not afford anything fine, only what deals she could find or what friends and family had donated over the years. For some reason she did not want Jareth to see any of it. Sarah wanted him to think of her of an important, self-sufficient actress of undeniable talent and extraordinary grace. Plastic pink cereal bowls would not give her that.

He sat the small jar on the counter beside her elbow, barely brushing her skin with his glove as he withdrew his hand. "Here." It was a whisper over her shoulder, in her ear, too soft for someone to speak when they were the only ones in the house.

Sarah pressed her lips together carefully, suppressing a shiver. "Thank you," she whispered back, just as soft, trying to ignore the pins and needles going up her arm.

He retreated back to the doorway and watched as she emptied the contents of the jar into another bowl and heated it in the microwave. Jareth could identify a few of the mortal appliances-he did, after all, occasionally work Aboveground.

Sarah poured the sauce over the spaghetti, sprinkled some cheese on top, and looked a little questioningly at her own concoction. Without giving herself time to second guess the edibility of the dinner, she picked two forks from a drawer, stuffed them into the bowls, and walked with her load past Jareth and into the living room. Carefully she sat the bowls on the coffee table, atop the clutter of magazines and other things. Jareth came to join her with hands still hidden in his pockets. But as soon as he seated himself on the far side of the couch Sarah sprang up.

"Oh, drinks, I forgot," she mumbled, a little glad for the temporary delay. "Just let me-" She looked down, words halting as if someone had switched off her voice. Jareth had pulled his hands from his pockets and gently caught one of her own, tugging her back towards the couch.

"Don't," he said simply. Softly he pulled on her fingers, until she was sitting on the couch again. He rose and uncurled his hand from hers. "You have already cooked. Let me."

Wordlessly she watched as he walked to the kitchen and opened the cabinet over the sink. Sarah swore mentally when he took in the messy array of plates, cups, bowls, and, finally, glasses. He cocked his head to the side quizzically, then began rummaging in the back until he extracted two delicate wineglasses-the ones Mrs. Lowry had brought back with her from Venice as a present. They were an amazing sea-green, flecked with bright blue. Sarah was too afraid to actually ever use them, and she watched now as the Goblin King filled the glasses with tap water and little square ice cubs from the tray in the freezer.

A soft smile curved the corner of her lips as she watched him, moving so easily in this foreign environment. If she squinted her eyes and ducked her head a little she could forget that he was from the Underground, he looked so human. But he would always move with magical fluidity, the particular slowness, as if he had all the time in the world.

Which, ultimately, he did.

Sarah left the small smile there when he returned, carrying the glasses as if they contained the world's finest wine, and he mirrored it.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the glass he handed to her, mood suddenly very light.

"You're welcome." They turned to each other, clinked the rims of the glasses softly, and Jareth gave the silent nod for 'cheers.' After that he said nothing, simply reclined on the couch and took to eating. Sarah did the same, trying very hard not to watch for his reaction out of the corner of her eye. Trying very, excruciatingly, hard.

They sat in companionable, if awkward, silence. She tried not to attack her dish, hungry as she was. Gratefully she welcomed full mouths-that way it was harder to start talking, and easier to avoid questions. Like why she wasn't serving dinner at the perfectly good kitchen table. It had seemed too small, silly for a king. Besides, on the couch they could choose not to stare at each other while eating. She was still trying to feel comfortable around him, to the charged sensation the air always had between them. In some ways it was almost unbearable, yet distinctly pleasant. Sarah tried focusing on the tang of the tomato sauce instead of the tang of her thoughts.

Soft firelight danced around the room. She had insisted they start one, in case the storm made the temperature drop. Her heating system was less than adequate. A distant part of her brain wondered what Jareth made of it, even though the rest of the house lights were on. It felt oddly out of place, like the romantic kissing scene of a movie set in an old bingo parlor.

Suddenly she rose with an empty bowl. "I'm going to go clean up before bed, maybe pack up a few things," she tried. Jareth blinked up at her sudden movement. "Make yourself at home, erm..." There was no television. Money had been tight before 'Phantom' and she only had the basic necessities in her house. Her eyes trailed over the bookshelf that covered the entire south wall. "...read anything you like." She left rather quickly after that, damning her cowardice. Couldn't even talk to him properly! Not a blasted word! She resisted the urge to fling her bowl at the wall and tear at her hair in frustration. This was no good, no good at all, whatever feeling was provoking this behavior. Hadn't she been trained to act? Couldn't she apply herself in any situation? Jareth would have seen right through it, she knew, and she wondered with despair how she was going to cope being around him for the rest of her life. If she could even survive the Underground that long. With a mental snort she dumped her things in the kitchen sink and retreated down the hall.

Moments later he heard the shower start and wondered over to look at the collection of books, dinner forgotten. Of course fantasy was the dominant genre, the covers worn and faded from being read a thousand times apiece. But there were other books-suspense, murder mystery, classic English lit., horror, non-fiction, poetry, even a few historical novels. He was impressed. Obviously Sarah had expanded her choice of reading material in the last six years. One particular volume caught his eye, a tiny red cover bound over yellowing pages. There were slight impressions of fingerprints around the edges, as if someone had clutched it tightly for days on end. Months. Maybe longer. It slept, wedged between a dictionary and a Jane Austen novel, forgotten. He reached forward, already knowing what the title was, trailing a finger down the spine before closing his hand around it and pulling-

That's when the electricity went out. Thunder cracked outside at the same time Sarah wailed. Jareth could only pick out a few words through the wall and still-running water, but all of them were definitely obscenities. He smiled at her rather colorful vocabulary and abandoned the bookcase to walk down the hall, stopping to tap gently on the bathroom door.

There was a shriek from within and choked gurgling. "Go away, Goblin King! Don't you dare come in here!" Viciously Sarah scrubbed soap from her hair in the dark. The water had gone cold and her teeth were chattering.

"I merely wondered if you were alright," he said loudly through the crack. "There's no other light source in there, how can you see?" It was so much harder to hear through chattering teeth... She swore again at the fact that this was the most conversation they had had in hours.

"I can't!" she admitted, "But I'm fine. I've got to get this soap out of my-Ahhh!" She could see the door opening through the plastic curtain-she hadn't been able to afford a printed one. Then there was a soft glow of blue-ish light, pulsing slowly from a suspended orb. 'It's a crystal, nothing more...'

She could hear Jareth sigh as he shut the door again. "Honestly, Sarah, you think I would do that?" Her lack of trust pained him, but really he had only brought that upon himself. It might take a great deal of time, he admitted, to win her confidence. But time was something they had plenty of this encounter.

"You're right, I'm sorry-just surprised by the power outage," she called. "Thanks...thanks for the light."

He leaned his head against the door. "My pleasure," and then Jareth retreated down the dark hallway, back to the living room bathed in firelight. Quietly he resigned himself to the couch again and wolfed down the rest of his meal. He did not want Sarah to think that he disliked it. Actually...maybe she would make him more once they returned home. He had traveled over much of the Underground world and never tasted anything so delicious. Unusual, perhaps, but definitely delicious. Thoughtfully he smiled into the fire, thinking of human food every day.

It was not long before she came out of the bathroom, hair dripping, frigid, clad in an over sized shirt and flannel pants. Yes, it was summer AND there was a roaring fire in the fireplace, but Jareth was here. Jareth, the ridiculously handsome, aromatic, strong(he _had_ caught her three times) immortal. She was at a loss of what else to do, did not want to...send the wrong message. Then what message _was_ she trying to send? she wondered, looking down at the sweats.

But she needn't have bothered. She found the Goblin King on her faded couch, an old text splayed over his chest. His eyes were closed, one hand over his stomach, the fingers of the other trailing on the ground. Maybe he had been more tired than either of them realized. Noiselessly she crept to the still form, the flames bathing him in an ethereal glow, casting strange shadows with every flicker. His pale hair fell smoothly around his face, light and airy. Sarah resisted the urge to touch it as she reached her hand forward to retrieve the book. Lightly she laid a few fingers on the edge to lift it off, but Jareth's body sensed the pressure even in sleep. The hand on his stomach found her own and she froze, worried at what he would do when he woke to find her there, so close. Her heart thumped almost audibly. But the hand simply traced her fingers before settling again, as if satisfied at what they had found. His breathing remained easy and undisturbed, but she stayed still just in case. After what felt like hours she lifted the book in one smooth motion, tucking the ribbon between the open pages and marking his place. Jareth did not stir anymore. Sarah failed to notice the smile on her lips as she replaced the book on the shelf and retired to her own room.

Sleep did not come as easily for Sarah as it apparently had for Jareth. Even though she had packed a few things by flashlight, was fed, clean, and exhausted, she could not calm down. Her sheets were suddenly suffocating, pajamas hot. The storm had abated after all and she thought of turning on her lamp to read, if it worked. But what if she woke up Jareth? No way.

The battery-powered clock on her table read three in the morning. She rolled over fitfully to look at the window. The rain had left the sky sparkling and clear-stars twinkled merrily. Sarah would love to go and stare at them for a while.

Without a second thought she was up and in her closet. It was small enough that she could find what she needed in the dark. A lighter, less restrictive pajama set of shorts and blouse, the white easy to spot in the blackness. She hurried them on and rushed barefoot to the window. Laughing despite her attempts at quiet, she opened the window and threw a leg over the sill. How absurd to be sneaking out of her own house...

She landed with a thump outside, the dirt from the bushes under the sill, prickly leaves, and twigs poking her toes. The thirsty ground had already soaked up the water and was dry again with the summer heat. Ignoring the discomfort, she jogged around the corner and toward the hill. Why did she always come to this place? Could it be that it reminded her subconsciously of another hill long ago, with barren trees and a clock that read thirteen hours? She shook her head and finished the climb.

A hand flew to her mouth at the top and she choked on her involuntary gasp. She had been going to walk a little ways down the slope so that she could lay at a proper angle and look up. But not ten feet away was another figure, clearly awake and engrossed in the stars. He looked so comfortable on the grassy earth, hands behind his head, one leg stretched in front of him, the other bent.

"Will you join me, Sarah?" The voice was soft, low, velvet, all with the intent of not frightening a skittish animal, and still she jumped, surprised. Should have known she wouldn't get away so easily.

"I thought you were asleep," she whispered back, picking her was down the hill to Jareth's side. She sat and drew her knees to her chest, suddenly very aware of her bare legs, but he did not turn to look at her.

"I was. We slept for so long this morning, though, that it seems to have thrown us off." He did turn then and noticed her change in attire. "The stars are beautiful tonight," he mumbled, gaze following the length of her leg. Blushing was more bearable in the dark.

"That's why I came out. It's been a while since it was clear enough to see them," she mumbled back, trying to keep her voice from wavering. A sad thought struck her. "Are the stars different Underground?"

Jareth propped himself up on an elbow to watch her staring wistfully at the moon. It was only a crescent and didn't shed much light tonight-he couldn't read her face very well.

"Yes, and no. Yours are there, and ours, and all of the dreams in between. It does look vastly different, and perhaps familiar." She couldn't discern any particular tone from his voice. "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

She tore her face away from the moon, puzzled. "Sure?"

"Sarah..." He didn't want to do this, but he had to know. For certain. "Are you sure you're willing to go back? Even if you do visit, can you cope with leaving behind this life? Or even, making a new one Underground?" His voice held a note of uncharacteristic worry, and her stomach twisted at it.

Sarah nodded, then laughed in a tired, self-mocking way. "It's no real choice. Funny, when you say 'leave this life behind,' it isn't really much of a life. Living on the edge of reason, scouring for jobs. I'll probably see Toby on more visits than I ever do now." Thoughtfully she stretched out her legs and fell back onto the hill. Jareth remained propped up, unconvinced. "The dreams I took back-wanting to become an actress, and all-it has been amazing, don't get me wrong. But always...empty." Her brow wrinkled and he settled down again, to let her think unscrutinized. She didn't say the last word lingering on her tongue.

Lonely.

"Jareth?" She said the name as if testing it on her tongue, unsure of how it would sound coming from her mouth. The silence around them seemed to make her voice penetrate the air. It was very unusual that the Goblin King should have a name-almost like he had another identity. More than that, it turned him into a real live person with fluctuating thoughts and emotions instead of a flat story book character.

"Hmm?" He tried sounding drowsy, but it did not work.

"Do you... think that I'm one of the people who's dreams...die?" she whispered. He turned his face to her and was alarmed to see glittering tear tracks running from her eyes into her hair.

He rolled closer, a gloved finger reaching out to wipe off the offending tears. It was so gentle she barely noticed, but turned to him anyway. The few moonbeams glittered behind his head, haloing his face. "No, love, I don't," he murmured. "Maybe what you thought were your dreams were simple illusions of something deeper. You are an amazing actress, but unfulfilled dreams may still be out there." He chuckled. "You are far too imaginative for all of your dreams to have died." Regretfully he withdrew his hand and laid on his back once more, relishing the smile that stole across her face.

For a while they sat in silence, both wondering if the other had fallen asleep yet. Then Jareth said, perfectly awake, "There is a story about the creation of the moon and stars."

Sarah, equally awake, asked, "How does it go?" Even as an adult she would always love a fresh story. One from the Goblin King seemed irresistible.

"It says that when the world was new, the Creator hung a great orb in the sky to light the dark of night. The moon, it was called, an unbroken shining sphere of white to brighten mortal paths.

"Not long after the creation of the world, a war began. The people were scrambling to claim the land. A General of a great army was sent to invade a neighboring mountainous region, but he fell in love with a Sorceress there. They knew they could not be together, that their people were simply too different to ever allow their union." His voice was so incredibly soft that Sarah found herself leaning closer and closer just to hear. "So she went atop the highest peak of the mountains and brought down the moon. It bounced during it's descent on the rocky slope, cracking and scratching the perfect surface. The Sorceress simply swept up the dust and flecks of moon and scattered them about the night sky, creating twinkling lights in various patterns and shapes. With her magic she sliced the moon into slivers and gave them to her General.

"'I will keep one of the slivers,' she told him, 'and place the broken piece in the sky as a symbol of my shattered heart. You, my love, keep the rest of my heart close to you. But, if fate is ever kind to us, and there is hope of your return, put the rest of the pieces back in place one by one. This way I might know of your coming.'"

Sarah's lips were slightly parted in wonder at the beauty and sadness of the tale, and she wondered if Jareth was making it up just for her.

"The General left with the slivers of the moon in a rough sack but did not go into battle the next day. He saw how the war was tearing the people of the world apart and refused to fight, so his superiors stripped him of his title and he was banished. By this time the gods were furious at the mortals and their stupidity. They divided up the lands themselves, drawing the battles to an end. Meanwhile the man wondered his way back to his love, occasionally tossing a piece of the moon into the sky. The gods sought him, to reward him for being the only mortal with enough wisdom and honor to see the error of his ways.

"'All I want,' he told them, 'is to be with my love again.' And so they consented to grant him his wish. By now the moon was whole, and it was on the night of the full moon that the former General and his Sorceress bride were to be wed by the gods. But they recognized her as the woman who had destroyed the precious orb of light.

"'We must punish this woman for her insolence,' they announced, and the man was outraged that they had broken their promise. He threatened to climb into the sky and destroy the moon entirely himself, if they went back on their word.

"'Only on one condition will we marry you,' said the gods after much deliberation. 'You will be united in holy matrimony, but may only be together when the moon is at her fullest. All the rest of the time, while she is waxing and waning, you must be apart. In this way the Sorceress shall be punished.'

"And so they were married, and to this day only see each other on the night when the full moon rises. The rest of the time the poor woman rearranges the broken pieces of her heart in the night sky, until it is whole again and she claims her love."

Finished, Jareth closed his eyes to the object of his story, unaware that Sarah was only a few inches away now, staring at him with wonder.

"That...was wonderful," she breathed, the air tickling his skin, and his eyes flew back open. He had thought her asleep. "Where did you hear it?"

He shrugged slightly, which was a feat with his hands pillowing his head. "An Underground legend."

"Just a legend?" Sarah wondered aloud, wishing it was true. Better yet, she wished the General and Sorceress could always be together. Hopeless romantic, she scolded herself.

Jareth smiled at her in the dark and she realized how close they were. Just a hair apart. Quickly she turned and settled back on the ground, studying the sparkling sky. All of a sudden it was much more remarkable.

The moon was disappearing, the stars beginning to melt into the sky. Jareth closed his eyes.

Birdsong erupted, sending him a tiny jolt. The sun was not up yet, light dancing warily on the horizon. Something tickled his nose, only to return once he'd batted it away. Groggily he opened his eyes to a tangle of dark hair. He was momentarily mesmerized by the many colors there as the sun rose from slumber, playing on Sarah's locks. She was laying only a blade or two of grass away, a green stain running along the back of her nightclothes where she'd turned during sleep. Jareth smiled, realizing how incredibly easy it would be to simply watch her forever. But best not-if she woke to find him looking at her she'd be unnerved. If he tried to leave she would hear. So he closed his eyes and happily waited for her to wake first, not minding the stray hairs that lazily found their way to his face.

Sarah could feel sleep leaving, but willed it to come back. For some reason she had slept more peacefully last night than in years. So she did the only logical thing she knew to do. She turned to her other side, as if to get away from the dull ache that was consciousness. Ha. That'll teach 'em.

But there was something solid there, much more solid than the fear of waking. Her head had bumped right into it. But hey, it was warm, and soft... Lazily she snuggled closer. Maybe she could go back to sleep after all.

Just when she had wrapped her arms around sleep again(and the new object), she got a whiff of whatever her face was pressed into, and opened her eyes.

Lips parted in horror, she looked up, hair rustling on the grass. Jareth's face was right above hers, her head buried in his chest. And her arms around his slender frame.

Oh, God.

At least he wasn't awake. His breathing was steady, body limp. As carefully as she could she unwound her careless arms and rolled to the other side.

'I think I'll wake up now.'

She sat up and surveyed the hill, the small wild flowers unfurling here and there, turning to look at the morning sun. Jareth peeked, a little let down that she had left, deciding he had better 'wake up.' The day must start some time.

"Mmmmm..." Sarah turned quickly to see Jareth roll away from her and give a long stretch-from the tips of his fingers to the toes of his boots. Muscles rippled beneath the rumpled clothes. It was slightly funny to see the fearsome Goblin King, dressed in mortal attire, laying amidst the wild flowers. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. He collapsed again and rolled to face her, eyes still sleepy. "Did we stay here all night?" he mumbled, taking a minute to focus his gaze properly. He was good.

"'Fraid so," she admitted. For a moment they regarded each other, and Sarah felt something shift. It was warm and bright, settling in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want it to leave, but stood slowly anyway and said, "Breakfast?"

Instantly his eyes were alight. "Ah-ha! I believe there was some dinner left over from last evening..." He gave a satisfied yawn, like a cat, and blinked happily up at her.

Sarah laughed and turned from him. "You don't eat spaghetti for breakfast, Jareth!" With that she disappeared over the hill. He watched her go for a moment, then frowned.

"Why not?" he called, taking his time in catching up.

"Because," she rolled her eyes, "then you won't have room for pancakes." Already she was through the backdoor.

When he entered the house a few moments later she was in the bathroom scrubbing her teeth. She had woken up with her face practically in his-what if she had morning breath? Ugh.

She spat and decided it best to put on her long robe, to be decent. Now that there was light enough to see she wasn't so happy about the pajamas. Sarah turned to get a better look at her hair, difficult in the tiny space, and saw the grass stain.

"Aw man!" came the screech, Jareth already smirking into a cupboard. He found two clean glasses, less elaborate than dinner's, and filled them with water. Then there was a sudden frown.

"Sarah!"

"What?" she said distractedly, coming out of the bathroom in a fluffy robe, scowl on her face. Damn grass stains.

"What are...'pancakes?'"


	6. VI:Company

VI

Company

She had never seen a man so ravenous. But then again, Jareth was not a human man, nor had he ever tasted maple syrup before...

A knock on the door caused Sarah to tear her eyes away from the Goblin King feasting on another Aboveground meal, his mismatched eyes wide with sugar shock. She left to look through the peep-hole, tying the robe more securely about her.

Gray curls bobbed expectantly and Mrs. Lowry knocked again. Nimbly Sarah unfastened the lock on the door and pulled it wide. "Good morning, Mrs. Lowry!"

The old lady returned the smile, noticing Sarah was in a very uplifting mood, and presented a small handbag. "Morning, my dear. Thought you might need this." The girl gave a groan, remembering she had left her things at the party. Hastily she pulled her teacher inside and gave an exaggerated shrug. "We wondered what happened the other night to make you dash out without your things, but figured the headache must've turned you in early." They walked farther down the hall, Sarah fishing her keys out of the forgotten purse and hanging them on a hook by the door. "I was going to call yesterday and check up on you, but the storm knocked my...power...out..." Mrs. Lowry finished, the sentence winding down to an uncertain stop.

Sarah placed the purse on another hook, then followed her friend into the kitchen to find Mrs. Lowry and Jareth in a somewhat odd staring contest. The poor woman's mouth was agape, Jareth's filled with pancake. A horrible sensation overtook her stomach.

Frantically she skittered between them, at a terrible loss for words. Here she was, barely dressed, with a man at her table looking a little more than disheveled(from sleeping outside, or course). AND there were two plates on the table so early in the morning.

"Mrs. Lowry, Jareth. Jareth...Mrs. Lowry," she announced lamely and sank into her chair at the table.

Ever the gentleman, Jareth swallowed and rose swiftly, coming to the befuddled woman's side. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Lowry," he said royally and bowed over the small hand he had clasped.

The woman shut her mouth with a snap and watched Jareth withdraw back to his seat-mostly she was scrutinizing the black gloves. Sarah motioned for her to join them, so she did, eyes never leaving the man before her.

"You're the fellow that danced with Sarah the other night." It was not a question. "And...sent her those flowers!" She blinked, then turned sharply. "Sarah!" she accused.

"What?" spluttered the girl, having tried to drown herself dutifully in her water glass. Jareth sent her a concerned look.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" She eyed the two critically, looking for all the world like a disgruntled hen.

"Sarah was not aware I sent her the roses until later that evening. I thought it would be better to tell her in person," Jareth replied smoothly, taking a delicate sip of his water. Sarah did not miss the left corner of his lips twitch up in a smirk. When she tried kicking his shin under the table in warning, her bare foot only contacted solidly with wood. Ow.

Mrs. Lowry's face softened. "Oh. I thought my little songbird had been keeping secrets from me." She smiled cheekily at Sarah. "Next time you have a suitor, I'd best be the first to know, young lady!" she laughed heartily, admonishing a finger playfully at her student.

Sarah spluttered again. "Suitor?!"

Jareth frowned. "Next time?"

She only smiled wickedly, as acting teachers will. "I'm afraid I must be on my way, dear." Mrs. Lowry stood and the long exotic scarf around her neck twirled. "Take care, Sarah. And watch out for this one, Jareth-she's a firecracker!" With that the woman fled from the house, closing the door to leave the two behind.

"Don't I know," Jareth mumbled, sauntering into the kitchen with dirty china in hand.

No sooner did he turn than he found his face in a sticky plate. Sarah tore it away from him, placed it harshly in the sink, and stalked off.

Having your face covered in maple syrup is a very, very unpleasant sensation. She was going to pay for this. He licked his lips. Then again...

Jareth grabbed the bottle of syrup from the table as he strode by, heading in the direction Sarah had vanished moments before.

It was not difficult to find her-there were only so many rooms in the cottage. She had not even bothered to lock the bathroom door, or close it. Sarah simply sat on the edge of the bathtub/shower and crossed her arms defiantly. There was no surprise on her face when Jareth came to stand in the doorway, looking murderous. And sticky. Bits of his golden hair were plastered to his face with sugary goo.

"Mrs. Lowry is very accurate in her description of you," he began almost thoughtfully, hands clasped behind his back, "although 'firecracker' may not do the infamous Sarah Williams justice. Mount Vesuvius is incredibly more accurate, don't you agree?" A bit of syrup rolled from his cheek and splatted on the floor.

Somehow in the mess Jareth continued to look dangerously composed. But that was only making it more and more funny. Sarah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, which prevented her answer and caused her eyes to tear a little. After a few seconds she clapped a hand to her mouth, unable to bear it any longer, and the tiniest of laughs escaped.

His eyes narrowed considerably. "I see. Well." There was a 'pop' from the suction of air being released and Jareth brought forth his bottled weapon. The syrup looked menacing, the sound of the top opening reverberating like he had just cocked a gun. Teeth gleamed in the bathroom mirror, dazzling, sharp, and wicked. "Two can play at that game."

Sarah felt herself scoot back a little when he advanced a step, one hand still behind his back, the other gripping the bottle. "What...are you going to do with _that_?" she articulated harshly, eyeing the weapon.

"Before I send you to your doom, fair Sarah," he continued, ignoring her question and advancing another step(which pretty much closed the distance in such a small space), "I want you to know," now he was above her, looking down as if from miles away, syrup held high, "that I rather liked you as a firecracker." He upended the bottle.

She flinched, closed her eyes. Nothing. Warily she peeked up to see Jareth looking hilariously perplexed. The bottle was open and a very tiny drop was beginning to make it's descent.

About three feet up.

How anti-climactic.

"Sarah...two. Goblin King...zero." He looked down at her smug face as she scooted along the edge of the bathtub, out from under the impending syrup. Still it had not dropped. The triumphant grin turned to a scowl.

Then another grin. A wider one. And he squeezed the bottle.

Hard.

She squealed and ducked as a stream of syrup splatted on the tiles above her head. Her mouth opened in shock and she glared at a decidedly pleased Jareth.

"Must work on my aim," he mused happily, stroking his chin. God, he was infuriatingly adolescent-like sometimes.

"Well you can't use _me_ as target practice!" Sarah yelled, jumping up and snatching at the bottle. But Jareth's hold was too strong, so they both stood clamped stubbornly to it. His eyes were twinkling with mischief as they looked down at her. Something hiccuped in her chest when he leaned forward, mouth poised at her ear, syrup from his face getting in her hair.

"Watch me."

He was preoccupied, so Sarah squeezed. A jet of brown liquid shot straight up and contacted heavily in both their faces.

A loud grumble and mild swearing arose between them as they jumped apart-she wasn't supposed to drench _herself_! With the hand not holding the bottle she peeled back a soggy layer of her hair and grimaced. Jareth still hand a hand on the bottle as well and was tipping it towards her with a chuckle.

"Touche."

She pushed it back in his direction. "Oh, no, you don't." Warily Sarah watched as he licked his lips again.

"You know," he said, looking at the ceiling and drawing the bottle towards his chest, pulling Sarah with it, "being covered in this mortal sweet is not all that bad." Indeed, she thought, he was covered. His shirt had little brown rivers of syrup running down it, arms and face slathered. In fact, Jareth was beginning to look like he belonged in the candy shop.

_Syrup-covered Jareth, chocolate-coated Jareth, Jareth with sprinkles-_

Sarah gave her inner voice a harsh kick in the side.

"Maybe you should try it." She blinked up at him, ignoring her whimpering conscience, and saw they were as near as last evening, though the bottle prevented anything closer. He was beginning to point it in her direction again, but stopped when she held up a sticky hand.

"Wait."

He cocked his head to the side and let the grin consume his face. "Why?"

"I'll make you a deal."

* * *

"Jareth that's...not really how you're supposed to...gross..." she moaned, watching him pour what was left of the maple syrup over the spaghetti.

"Mmm...I beg to differ," he countered through a mouthful.

Sarah had fearfully offered that he could pick the item for lunch if he didn't cover her in maple syrup like he'd threatened. Really, that had been the only thing preventing his revenge...and the claim that she would shave him bald in his sleep. Luckily they and the bathroom were clean again with a wave of his hand(Jareth felt the tiniest twinge of guilt later, but she had started it). Apparently just being near to Sarah, and his dreams inside her, could give a tiny burst of magic now and again.

"There's actually a movie about this," she mused, then snickered as he looked up in confusion. "It's called 'Elf.'"

Jareth arched a delicate eyebrow.

After lunch(Sarah having chosen a nice, safe turkey sandwich) she let him watch it on her computer. The only reason she had one was to look up job opportunities-other than that the laptop stayed hidden away.

"That's not how elves look at all," he groused. "Especially the ones in the workshop. Mortals do tend to spread fallacious information about our world, though..."

Sarah plopped onto the couch beside him. "Workshop?"

He motioned to the screen.

"No!"

Starting slightly, Jareth turned to Sarah clutching his arm in frantic desperation.

"You are telling me...Santa Clause. Santa Clause?!" Her voice had reached a hysterical pitch. "Lives in the UNDERGROUND?!"

"It isn't really the same story you humans have about a jolly saint, you know," Jareth tried. "And technically his title is Sir Nicholas-"

She darted off the couch and down the hall, voice bouncing back to him in a frenzy of jumbled words. "I have to make sure everything is packed, the sooner we leave the better, OhMyGod, SANTA CLAUSE..."

Jareth turned up the volume sedately.

* * *

It was dinner time, but Jareth insisted that they wait and have a proper meal at the castle. As fond as he had grown of noodles and maple syrup, he was ready for a hearty supper with a little more substance. Sarah had packed and re-packed, trying to decide which pieces best suited the Underground. Worriedly she thought the answer was _none_, but still it could not hurt to bring a few things. However, among a few books and other personal items, the suitcase was refusing to shut...

Jareth found her sitting atop a piece of luggage, trying to press it closed. It wasn't helping much-Sarah was too light to have any real effect. He knew the unspoken rule had been to stay out of her room, but incredibly distressed noises had reached his ears from the hallway. She gave up, panting slightly, and flopped onto the bed. Tentatively he sat on one corner, ready to be shooed off any second. "Sarah, what are you doing?"

"Packing," she muttered tiredly, shutting her eyes.

"Why?"

She turned to him, exasperated. "_Because_, Jareth, I need something to wear Underground, same as Aboveground." It was laughable, really, how the mood had shifted between them. Instead of a lingering fear, a wave of uncertainty and paranoia every time they were together, there was a distinct companionship. Though Jareth continued to treat her like a lady(syrup aside), and Sarah sought to treat him more like one of her college friends. How else was she supposed to handle the Goblin King?

"But all of your clothes will be specially made. We can have a fitting sometime tomorrow..." He dropped fully onto the bed beside her, making it rock. If she hadn't already kicked him out it must be safe.

"Really?" She sat up. "Why?"

It was his turn to be exasperated. "You will be a guest in the castle, and staying for quite some time. It's only natural, the proper thing to do." Jareth shrugged, a beautiful roll of the shoulders. Effortless. "There will be dignitaries to meet, embassies, balls, other realms to visit..." he wondered off. When Sarah did not reply he removed his gaze from the ceiling to her.

Her face was somewhat stricken, drawn. "I didn't realize I would be caught in all of the politics of it." She was twisting her fingers nervously in the sheets. Somehow she had believed to be given a small place of her own in part of his kingdom, there to stay and live out the remainder of her days. Certainly not as esteemed company. Or a permanent resident in the castle. "I have no idea how to act in front of so many important people! I-" Jareth silenced her lips with a single gloved finger.

"Don't worry, Sarah. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She nodded against the leather and tried to ignore the buttery texture. "Besides, do you want to be left at home for all eternity?" He dipped his head, slightly down and to the side.

"Very funny," she scowled, and he chuckled. "How will that work anyway, Jareth? I'm just a mortal-it won't be forever."

Jareth's face was suddenly very composed. "The more time you spend in the Labyrinth, the more magic you soak up. Moreover, you have my dreams, remember?" Softly he poked her in the chest, above her heart. "Eventually..." He trailed off for a moment, taking the time to choose his words carefully. "Eventually you will become completely immortal, like me. Fae."

That idea was vastly overwhelming to Sarah. Forever was a very. Very long time. Yet not long at all... Rather than try and sort it all out and receive a stroke, she accepted it numbly, nodding and springing from the bed. It was uncomfortably like trying to comprehend the fact that the universe was infinite. "Well..." she tried, looking at the clock.

"There's still a little time left. Perhaps you should leave a message for Mrs. Lowry," Jareth offered, eyeing the clock as well. "She'll worry, you know."

Sarah blinked at his sincere interest in one of her loved ones, but nodded. "What can I possibly tell her?"

Jareth shrugged again and slid gracefully from the bed. "You'll think of something." And then he left her to think, closing the door softly behind him.

* * *

Sarah had still insisted on the suitcase, filled now with only a few pieces of clothing. The remaining space contained things she couldn't bear to part with-old photos, some letters, favorite books, knick-knacks. She had taped the note for Mrs. Lowry on the front door- it would only be a matter of days before she came looking. Jareth had never seen it, and for that she was glad.

They were on the hill now so that she could say one last goodbye to her favorite spot. Jareth looked around at all of the aromatic flowers thoughtfully. When Sarah wasn't paying attention, wistfully trying to imprint the image before her to memory, he scooped up a few and hid them in the pocket of his vest. Realizing that it was time, her insides squirming with a mixture of sorrow and excitement, she turned to him.

"Do you know why we are leaving now?" he asked, gazing beyond the woods to the setting sun. Sarah shook her head. "Sunset is the time of day when our worlds are closest. Nearly touching, but not quite. Remember the Labyrinth sky?"

"Yes...it was dusty," Sarah thought aloud. "Very close to the orange of the sunset, there at the treetops."

"Exactly. The colors of my world and yours, infused for just a few precious seconds. And then-"

Even as he said the words, whispered softly into her ear from behind, Sarah saw the faintest shimmer in the sky as blue faded into orange, creating a pale peach color in between. If she had not been looking for it she never would have noticed.

"Ready?"

She nodded, and slipped her hand into his waiting gloved one. He entwined his fingers with hers and gathered them to his heart.

No breeze rustled the trees or grass around them that evening, under the perfect sunset. There was no bright flash of light, no loud noise. The pair simply seemed to melt and fade until there was no one on the hill.

Mrs. Lowry darted around the house, letter in hand, the second after they were gone. At the top of the hill she looked about, but there was no one. She could have sworn she'd seen something a moment ago...she glanced back at the letter.

_Dear Mrs. Lowry,_

_You know that you have been a mother to me-the only true mother I have ever known. Please do not worry, as I know all mothers will. I am safe and happy. Jareth and I are old friends-we decided to elope last evening. His family is involved in foreign politics and the event must be kept a secret. I will come back to visit as often as I can, God willing. All of my possessions-the house and everything else I own-belongs to you now. If you are able, do not mention anything to my family. I want to let them know in my own way. You will always be in my heart, in everything I do._

_All my love,_

_Sarah_


	7. VII:Plant an Idea Before Dinner

Your reviews make me so happy...sniffle...  
I know there hasn't been a lot of action going on, but trust me. It is coming. Be patient, please? And in the meantime enjoy these chapters. I've worked extremely hard to get them just how I want them.  
Speaking of which, there _might _be lots of good, fresh material around the corner...perhaps the more reviews I get, the sooner chapters will be posted? Haha :P  
As always, I love my readers! Please tell me how you like the story so far!

E. Jane

* * *

VII

Plant an Idea Before Dinner

She did not want to see her world fading in front of her, so Sarah took one last look and squeezed her eyes tightly. At first nothing happened. She simply felt...fuzzy around the edges. And then there was a jolt in her stomach, as if she was in a plunging elevator. But she had not moved...

When she opened her eyes Sarah found a leather vest and looked up to see Jareth smiling apologetically down at her. "Sorry, moving through time-space barriers is not always so pleasant." She realized she was clinging to him like a small child and quickly disentangled herself from his consoling embrace. This new Jareth continued to shock her as much as the cruel one had. He was too gentle, too understanding. She laughed at herself and turned to survey the surroundings.

They were in a garden. A wide, sprawling place filled with every plant imaginable. The brick walls were overgrown with ivy, red, yellow, purple, and orange flowers clumped together in varying patterns. Slender trees offered their shade and delicate paths wound through it all, past benches and gurgling fountains. It was as a secret garden should be, just as she'd always imagined. The carefully constructed layout and choice of flora flowed together beautifully. Yet there was an air of excitement, of intoxicating wildness. Just like the Labyrinth...just like it's king. She turned back to him, mouth full of questions, but they died on her lips. He stood before her, hand outstretched, filled with flowers. "For you."

Sarah stepped back to him and cupped the tiny bouquet in her palms, looking up with a whole new set of questions in her eyes. When she smelled them...Oh! How they smelled like home!

"Look," he said softly, pointing at the flowers. "They still have the roots. Pick a place to replant them and they'll flourish. You can have your own little piece of home, right here."

Her eyes filled with tears, ridiculously choosing this moment to show, as she hugged the blooms to her chest. "Jareth, you don't know what this means to me...I...why do you go out of your way for me?" She really was beginning to wonder. The gesture was astoundingly thoughtful, the most out of all of his recent surprises.

He smiled. "I was a different character last time we met, Sarah. Playing the part of your childhood villain to indulge your fantasies and frighten you off. I was what you wanted me to be, although it did not quite work out so well..." A soft chuckle of amusement, his gaze observing the space around him. "I am not all that bad. Most of the time." His teeth gleamed in the sun. "Beside, I want you to be happy here." Jareth turned to look down at her, eyes so full of sincerity that her heart leaped.

What made her do it, she could never tell. Perhaps the fluttering in her stomach, or the sudden intensity in the air between them. Petals clutched under her chin, she stood on her tip-toes and pecked him on the cheek. "I will be," she whispered, then took off down the path to look for a place to plant the flowers.

Jareth raised a hand to the spot on his cheek where her lips had been. Wide mismatched eyes watched her scamper away, searching for an unoccupied spot of dirt. He stood like a statue, marveling at the sensation. His brain did not work anymore.

"Jareth!" A sudden clap on the shoulder sent him spinning around in surprise. "My dear boy, you've finally come back! We were about to send a search party Aboveground for you!" He found the voice coming from the man beside him.

"Hello, Adamo," he grinned. "I was not gone all that long."

The old man, half a head shorter than Jareth, crossed his arms, silver hair catching the light like a spider's web covered in dew. Mischievous grey eyes twinkled behind his round spectacles. "Did you...accomplish the mission?" His mouth was suddenly fighting a smile, Jareth could tell.

Wickedly the Goblin King grinned and turned to follow Sarah, his back to Adamo.

"Now, now, Jareth! Fess up! Is that any way to treat your highly esteemed tutor?"

Jareth grunted. "I am no longer a child-you haven't tutored me in centuries."

Adamo sighed heavily. "I still like to pretend. Royal Advisor is far more complicated-"

"Jareth!" Sarah came springing around the corner, flushed with excitement. "I found the perfect place, beside the willow. Tree." She came to a standstill in front of the two men, surprised at this new character. Suddenly she felt ridiculously under dressed in their company-jeans and a t-shirt did not suit royalty well, or royal gardens. She glanced at Jareth and noticed with a shock he had changed-painter's shirt, grey breeches, boots, gloves, vest. Even the hair was back, falling around his shoulders in disorderly, strangely alluring blond layers. Automatically everything fit together, the crazy outfit perfect for this place of magic. "Hello," she tried, turning back to the other man.

He stepped up, took her hand delicately, and placed a kiss on her knuckles. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the Lady Sarah."

"L-lady? How do you know my name?" She looked accusingly at Jareth. He was glaring at the man, arms crossed over his chest, and mumbling something suspiciously like "show off."

The old man chuckled warmly. "_Everyone _knows your name, my dear." At once Sarah was very comfortable around this man, with his easy-going nature and laughing eyes. He seemed...grandfatherly, almost. "After all, you are the only one to beat Jareth's Labyrinth."

"Sarah," the aforementioned king said, draping an arm casually around her waist, "this is Adamo. My tutor as a child, now the kingdom's Royal Advisor. My right-hand man." He gestured to Adamo, who bowed theatrically with a spinning twist of the fingers. Sarah giggled.

"Very nice to meet you, Sir Adamo." She tried a little curtsy, which was difficult considering the pants.

Beaming, he straightened and swiftly swept her from Jareth. "Come, let us see the spot you have picked out for your flowers." He offered his arm and they turned an ivy covered corner. Jareth sighed at the sky and began to follow, more than annoyed that Adamo had taken Sarah from him. Suddenly an idea struck, and he conjured a crystal out of thin air. Quietly he whispered to it, blew the delicate orb over a wall, and, smirking, followed the sound of voices down another path.

It was only seconds before he found them in a separate part of the garden. This spot was mostly luxurious grass and a silver-blue pond. A large willow stood sentry to the side, boughs dragging the ground, leaves swaying in the delicate breeze. Sarah was sweeping her arms to and fro over a patch of earth and Adamo was nodding enthusiastically. "This is where you want to put your flowers?" Jareth asked quietly, right behind her. She spun, sparkling up at him.

"Is it alright? I thought it looked good for them..." She glanced lovingly at the the petals in her arms.

"It's perfect," he smiled. "But you'll need some help planting them." Right on time, he mused as a distinct grumbling approached from the direction that he had just come. Jareth stepped to the side, to let Sarah see the newcomer.

"Always got somethin' more 'portant for me ter do than my actual _job_-" came the muttering, but the dwarf froze when he turned the corner. "Sarah?"

"Hoggle!" she shrieked and flew at him, kneeling on the ground to squeeze him better. Jareth looked on, hands clasped behind his back as the two met in excitement. A flurry of words rose between them, trying to figure out what had happened a few nights before.

"You're very fond of the girl, Jareth," Adamo said softly. The King turned sharply, unaware that he was being watched. Instantly his features became an unreadable mask.

"She's important to the Underground. A guest in my kingdom," he said imperiously.

"Do you indulge all of your guests in such pleasures? Flowers, reacquainting them with old friends? Jareth, you've gone soft!" he chuckled, impervious to his ruler's slanted frown, and poked him in the chest.

"Adamo-"

"No, won't hear it. And you shouldn't deny yourself the truth either," he refused, holding up his hands. "But while we have a moment..." They looked to the two reunited friends. Sarah had led Hoggle over to the designated area by the hand, pointing to places on the ground. "I'm afraid I have some news." He withdrew an envelope from his breast pocket and handed the embellished letter inside to Jareth.

He scanned it quickly, mask slipping to reveal a face of stony displeasure. Jareth growled and thrust the message back at Adamo. "You can't be serious!"

"I'm afraid it is inevitable, Jareth. We all must attend."

"All?" Questioningly he looked to his advisor, then Sarah.

"Didn't you tell her that she would accompany you to certain functions?"

"Yes, but so soon? Can't we simply decline?" he huffed, knowing the question to be wasted breath.

Adamo guffawed. "Good one, Jareth! The prince of the High Court cannot forsake his duties. And Marraine's anniversary is very important, indeed. I understand your hesitation, given the past. But still. We must celebrate the birth of our closest ally."

"As close as an ally can be, what with our strained relationship," the king groused to his boots.

"And another thing."

"What..." he sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, rubbing his forehead.

"I've been thinking, as Royal Advisors tend to do. If Sarah is to reside here permanently, don't you think the rumors will fly?" He sent a meaningful glance.

"Rumors about Sarah?" Jareth repeated confusedly, then blinked with recognition. "Surely not-"

"I'm afraid so. As per your wish, I am the only one who knows she possesses your dreams, save her three friends. But everyone else will think that you are keeping a very lovely young woman in your castle all to yourself."

"Absurd," he dismissed. "Just because she shows up rather suddenly, intends to stay, won't be working..." Realization stopped him short, mouth twisting unpleasantly.

"Exactly. And you know how the Fae are," Adamo reminded. "Thriving on rumors, looking for excitement and scandal below the exterior of our rigid rules. Frankly, they expect it, can't see why it hasn't happened before now." Jareth scowled hugely. "Well? You are a king, after all, and have every right to do as you wish. Everyone would simply turn the other cheek. But obviously that is not what you intended for Sarah."

"No," he replied tersely. "Definitely nothing like that. Such loathsome notions some of those scoundrels have..."

"I most certainly agree," the advisor nodded. "So, the way I see it, you have two options."

Jareth waved a hand for him to continue.

"First, you tell everybody the secret and run the risk of her harm. You know there are many out there who seek nothing more than your power, your control over the Labyrinth. And they'll go to almost any lengths to get it," he tried softly, patiently.

The Goblin King had paled considerably at this option, mouth tight. "Two?"

"Second, you do the appropriate thing. Court her." That insufferable twinkling was back in his eyes, hands spread wide in offering.

"Court her?" Jareth hissed so that Sarah would not hear. "What do you mean by that?"

Adamo rolled his eyes heavenward. "She will have unwavering protection from all, save the handful that are repulsively ignorant. No one in their right mind will dare lay a finger on her. And..." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Fine," Jareth grumbled, trying to disregard the pleasant feeling unfurling in his chest. "For her protection, and only if she consents." Then he thought of something. "I wonder how Irene will react to Sarah." A slow smile was making it's way onto his face.

"Sparks will fly," Adamo muttered happily, turning to the girl and dwarf. "Sarah!" he called, and she spun from her engagement. "It's nearly dinner. Would you care to join us, Hoggle?" he asked politely as the two approached. Sarah's face was lost in delight of her plans for the garden.

"No, thank you kindly. I still have ter finish up a few things afore the day is done." He turned to Sarah and patted her hand. "They'll grow fine, jus' make sure teh water 'em a little every day." Jareth looked to the plot of newly turned earth behind them, the flowers already tucked neatly into the ground.

"Thank you, Hoggle," she smiled, crouching down to kiss his weathered forehead. "I'll see you soon?"

"Sooner than later," he gruffed happily, blushing as hard as a dwarf could, and was gone. Jareth's mouth tilted down in a brief frown, thinking that she had shared that same kiss on his cheek with his grubby gardener.

"I think I'll go ahead to the kitchens and check on everything," Adamo offered thoughtfully. "But perhaps you two would like to take the scenic route?" With that he snapped his fingers and disappeared. Sarah blinked.

"Does _everybody_ do that around here?" she grumbled to the empty place Adamo had just occupied.

Jareth chuckled. "A select few of us. It's much more pleasant than crossing between worlds, I assure you. But still, we may as well take Adamo's advice and walk."

Sarah nodded gratefully, keen to take in her surroundings the easy human way. "Will I be able to do that?" She snapped her fingers experimentally. Nothing. Jareth laughed a little louder, watching the disappointment steal across her face.

"Eventually, but not for some time. You don't have enough magic yet. Hmm..." He thought aloud, absentmindedly taking Sarah by the arm(Ha. Hobble could not do _that._). Instinctively she curled her fingers over his elbow as they walked.

"Hmm...what?" she asked, noticing the trees start to thin as they came out of the garden.

"Well, someone if going to have to teach you how to control your magic. It can be terribly unstable at first. I think lessons are in order." They were on a cobbled path now, under a long series of arches draped with greenery. It was a little like a leafy tunnel.

"Lessons? From Adamo," she guessed.

"Maybe sometimes, but mainly from me, I think."

"Why is that?"

"Because part of your magic used to be mine, remember? Besides," he smirked, "if you blow us all to smithereens, it will technically be _my_ fault." He couldn't help but playfully torment her, and watched with delight as she formed a retort.

"We're here," Jareth interrupted, sweeping his hand about. They were on a kind of patio, smooth black stone underneath their feet. A few wrought iron chairs and a table were situated in the center, and beyond them lay the castle. It was mighty, imposing, windows catching the golden sun. Somehow it seemed far grander than the last time she had been here, although the distractions then might have contributed to her lack of observation.

Jareth led her to the table, pulled out her chair for her, then seated himself. Sarah continued to look around in awe. The patio itself was small, very private, with the castle on one side and the entrance to the gardens opposite via an arched doorway. The remaining sides were an amazing view of the rolling lands beyond, sun sinking low into the hills, and the other a brick wall.

"I'm never going to get used to the beauty of this place," she marveled, oblivious to Jareth's watchful stare. "Every turn is something different." Sarah turned back to him and nearly gasped on pure air. The fading sun had lit him up, hair aglow like a halo, electric eyes blazing. It was exhilarating, terrifying, beautiful... He cocked an eyebrow.

"Alright, Sarah?"

"Fine, fine," she managed, waving a hand in the air. "I just feel a little..." She stole a glance at her jeans. "Out of place."

He grinned. "Is that so?" Under the table he snapped his fingers.

"Oh!" Sarah gasped and jumped from her chair. Gone where her Aboveground clothes-she was in a filmy dress, a light new-leaf green that seemed to be made entirely of air. She twirled and the bottom flared, just below her knees. The front dipped low, pulled together by a sparkling brooch at her sternum, and the sleeves were capped and slitted. It clung to her like a second skin and...matched her eyes.

"Thank you!" she proclaimed to a beaming Jareth, completely lost in the mesmerizing texture.

"My pleasure."

She sat again to examine her new footwear-a strappy silver thing with a heel. Quite possibly she might break her ankles. Jareth laced his hands and rested his elbows on the table. With a subtle flick of his fingers, torches placed at intervals around the patio flared to life. It would not be light much longer. Pleased with Sarah's tangible happiness, he rested his chin atop his hands and waited.

Adamo materialized subtly a few feet away before coming to join them. "They'll be bringing dinner out in a moment. Meanwhile-" He twisted his wrist and a tall bottle appeared along with three glasses. Delicately he poured and handed the first to Sarah. "My dear, you look simply divine! That dress matches your lovely eyes," he said, shooting Jareth a knowing glance. The king's lips only curled up slightly.

Sarah blushed prettily and hid in the large glass. "Thank you-Jareth did it," came the somewhat muffled response as she waved in his general direction. When she tasted the wine Sarah instantly met bliss-it was like drinking berries and sunshine. Jareth noticed the happy smile on her lips right away.

"Bringing up bottles from your private stores again?" He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and looked to his advisor.

"Of course!" the old man replied brightly, pouring the other two glasses. "After all, this is a special occasion." He raised his glass high above his head, torchlight bouncing from the rim. "To the Lady Sarah!" he declared, then clinked glasses with Jareth. Both drank deeply and went in for a second round. Did they want to make this shade of maroon her permanent color? She went back to hiding in her own glass.

By now the sun was completely down, the only light coming from the blazing torches. She marveled at how time between the worlds seemed to fluctuate at random intervals and felt something akin to jet-lag. Before long servants came laden with trays to sit before the three. Sarah could not see them properly in the firelight, but they looked very human-or at least as human as Jareth and Adamo did.

She ate in stunned silence-everything was amazing. Fruits, meats, cheeses, bread all artistically arranged and perfectly prepared. Very soon they were all near to bursting, heaving great contented sighs. Sarah felt her head begin to nod soon after her silverware came to rest on the table.

"Oh, dear. Our guest must be dreadfully tired. I'm afraid it's been a trying few days, hasn't it Sarah?" Adamo chuckled sympathetically.

She stifled a yawn and nodded. Jareth rose gracefully and offered his hand. "I'll show you to your quarters, Sarah."

"Goodnight, Lady Sarah." Adamo rose and gave a slight bow.

She smiled sleepily and bowed her head in acknowledgment. Right now she could not trust her shoes, sleep, or wine to curtsy properly. "Goodnight, Sir Adamo." Gratefully she clasped Jareth's waiting hand.

They were in a stone hallway, a red runner on the floor. Sconces burned brightly on the walls and before them was a small wooden door. Sarah tipped precariously into Jareth. She was so tired, exhausted from all the new encounters of the day, and had sampled quite a bit of wine. She didn't care that he chuckled softly and swooped her up into his arms, didn't notice him lay her gingerly in the middle of an enormous bed. Especially she did not have any sensation of her beautiful dress being replaced with a white slip by a wave of his hand, or when her eyes closed. Perhaps they had been that way for some time. What she _did _notice was the warm, fluffy softness of the sheets, and how willingly her body was giving in to sleep. But she was gone before Jareth leaned over to sweep his lips against her cheek, a kiss for a kiss, and whisper, "Sweet dreams, love," in her ear.


	8. VIII:Blue Misconceptions

VIII

Blue Misconceptions

She groaned at the unforgivable sunshine and turned to bury her head in the pillow. Why did morning always come so SOON? But the sheets smelled like lavender and she was slipping back into sleep...

Something cold on her elbow. Sarah wrinkled her nose, mind suddenly very awake. Cautiously she moved her hand around to find the source and landed in a mass of...hair.

Oh, God. Not again.

She could not move. Waking up next to Jareth on a hill was one thing-but in a bed was another entirely. When had she agreed to that?! For that matter, when had she even gone to bed...?

A soft noise brought her back and Sarah frowned into the pillow. No use ignoring him, obviously he was awake.

Angry now with embarrassment, she threw the covers back and sat up. But she was blinded by a golden tangle of hair and a wet tongue.

"Bark, bark!" Sarah pushed the dog off and wiped the slobber from her face, giggling madly with relief.

"You gave me quite a start!" she exclaimed, dutifully scratching behind his ears. He was magnificent-quite large for a dog. Very nearly he resembled a golden retriever, but had the bright blue eyes of a husky. Wagging his tail, hard, he let out another joyful bark as Sarah scratched his chin.

The door burst open and Jareth stalked in unannounced. "Loki!" he cried exasperatedly. "Come here! How did you get in Sarah's room?" he asked, crouching as the dog jumped off the bed and loped to his master.

Surprised, Sarah drew the covers back up to her chin. Didn't he knock?! But then she remembered he had already seen her in pajamas before. She lowered the sheets and watched as Jareth reprimanded the dog.

"Loki, no more sneaking into our guest's rooms. You know better...that's exactly why you did it," he muttered and playfully patted the dog's head. Sarah glanced back down to her pajamas-these were definitely NOT something of hers! Thin white straps held up the delicate slip, the lacy low-cut front adorned with beads. On night clothes?!

The cover was yanked back up frantically as Jareth straightened, giving the dog one last look. But he did not seem to mind-just wagged his tail all the harder.

"Sleep well?" he asked, obviously genuinely interested.

She only nodded. "Low-key...?" she asked uncertainly, and was grateful when Jareth's gaze left her and went back to the dog.

"Ah, Loki. I hope he did not disturb you. He's a bit...mischievous." He turned back to Sarah, noted her distressed look, then the sheets. "...I'll send someone up to dress you, and then perhaps you can join me for breakfast?" he asked a particularly large painting, averting his gaze. He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye and did the same. Without another word he retreated. Halfway down the hall, "Loki!" and a whistle, and the dog trotted out, door magically closing behind him.

Sarah flopped back onto her pillows and threw an arm over her eyes. She was never going to get used to this.

She lay there for several minutes before getting up again. When she did it was to investigate her new quarters. The bed she occupied was a rich, chestnut-like wood, four posters towering around her. Silk sheets in a royal purple contrasted nicely to the blue and white walls of the room. Overhead was a dark canopy, like the night sky fading from blue to black. A large vanity and stool were in one corner, a desk with a lamp, a wardrobe, and chest of drawers. Through an open doorway she could see into a kind of sitting room with a large fireplace, couch, and chairs. But the thing that caught her attention was the window. It reached floor-to-ceiling like a door, and was rounded at the top, coming to a delicate peak. Sarah slid from the bed and crossed the room to look through it.

The sight was magnificently breathtaking. Immediately below were the gardens-she could see her own little spot from here. Beyond that rose the Labyrinth, twisting and turning, hard to see in it's entirety due to the thin sunlight. Far off in the distance, barely whispers of shadows, rose ominous mountains. As the daylight steadily increased everything was washed in a fiery glow.

A knock on the door brought her back. "Come in!" It was opened slowly, a young girl stepping inside. She curtsied.

"Lady Sarah, His Majesty sent me to prepare you for your day." She had wild red hair that couldn't seem to stay in it's bun, and freckles peppered her cheeks.

"Please, just call me Sarah," she smiled. "What's your name?"

"Adele," the girl blinked, clearly taken aback at the display of attention. "Shall I help you get ready now?"

Sarah shrugged shyly, not really seeing any choice in the matter. She scratched her head as a poor means of distraction. "I suppose..."

Adele crossed the room to a door Sarah had not noticed before. She opened it and ushered her inside. It was a bathroom, nearly as large as her bedroom. In the very center was an enormous porcelain tub with clawed feet. The entire room practically sparkled with cleanliness, making the black tiles underneath and light blue on the walls shine. There was a grand sink and counter, and an elaborate gold-framed mirror hung on one wall.

While Sarah took in yet another of the castle's wonders, Adele drew the bath, adding handfuls of scented beads to the warm water. She brought forth a small stool and placed on it a tray of shampoos, soaps-all manner of things. Towel and robe were nearby.

"Miss Sarah?" the maid asked the gawking girl. "Your bath is ready."

"Oh, thank you, Adele!" she cried, sniffing the air appreciatively. The girl giggled-this mortal was comical.

"I'll be outside, if you need me," she smiled and shut the door after her.

Happily Sarah shed the nightdress and slipped into the tub. Ah, bath...

* * *

Adamo sat silently at the long table, to the left of Jareth at the head. They both drank their morning tea and nibbled at the assortment of fruits and scones. Jareth had tried to describe pancakes to his adviser, but with no luck. He sighed. What he wouldn't _give_ for some maple syrup...

"Busy day ahead of us," Adamo yawned. "Must reply to Irene, set up traveling arrangements-"

"Take Sarah to the gardens, see about fittings-" Jareth cut in.

"-attend to matters of state, read the mail-"

"-explain about a million things-"

"-listen to complaints from citizens-"

"-start her etiquette lessons-"

"-Jareth."

"-she's dying to see her other friends-"

"Jareth!"

"-heaven forbid she wants a tour-"

"JARETH!"

"Hmm?" The king brought his head up from it's resting spot on the table. In truth, what little sleep had come to him the night before had been filled with a never-ending list pertaining to the girl. "What?" he asked, puzzled as Adamo grinned wickedly. The old man picked up his cup and took a sip.

"Oh, nothing."

"Adamo-," he warned.

"Ah, here is Sarah!" Instead of answering Jareth he jumped up and ran to escort her in. Silently the king watched her approach the table in a simple blue dress with a square cut neckline. Her hair was pulled halfway back, delicate strands framing her face.

"Good morning," he managed as she sat, momentarily captivated. Then he shook his head mildly as if to clear it. "Sorry about earlier. There is no telling how Loki got into your room."

"Rascal," Adamo said cheerily and seated himself.

Jareth poured a cup of tea and handed it to Sarah. "I'm afraid it's going to be a busy day," he apologized. "There is a lot to get done, things to see to since my absence. And things for you, also."

Sarah finished her strawberry and looked up. "What kind of things?"

"Unfortunately we must prepare for a rather important event. Marraine, a neighboring kingdom, is celebrating it's anniversary very soon. As a royal, and important ally, I must attend. Naturally you and Adamo will accompany me." He took a rather long sip of his tea, avoiding her gaze.

"How...how soon?" came the nervous question. Sarah was instantly intimidated by the seriousness of the conversation. Obviously this was a huge event, more so than Jareth was letting on.

"A week," he admitted, "counting the day we have to travel."

Sarah stifled the small "eep" rising in her throat. "And how many guests will be in attendance?"

"A couple...thousand," Adamo offered. Sarah paled ever so slightly and he reached out to pat her hand. "It isn't all _that_ bad, Sarah. We will help you to get ready. You'll be just fine."

She nodded meekly and stuffed her mouth with scone to keep from screaming.

They ate the rest of breakfast in silence, each pondering what the day would bring.

After they had finished Adamo left to begin the travel arrangements and Jareth and Sarah walked to another part of the castle. He stopped her outside of a small door. "Miss Lila is inside-she'll be fitting you for some proper clothes. When you are finished just say my name and I'll come for you."

"Alright," she nodded, and he vanished.

Sarah knocked on the door lightly and pushed it open.

"Come in, come in, don't be shy!" chirped a voice. Sarah entered fully to find a small area, almost like a lavish sitting room. There were things everywhere-bolts of material, pins, needles, threads, mannequins, baubles littering every surface. A tiny woman bustled around a table and a tiny platform to Sarah. Immediately she sized her up head to toe, measuring tape in hand. Before she could say a word, Sarah found herself on the platform. "I'm Lila!" the lady announced brightly. "Royal Seamstress, at your service." She gave a little curtsy and a broad smile. Instantly Sarah liked her. "And you, Miss Sarah, are going to look stunning when I'm done with you." She clapped her hands and rubbed them together excitedly. "Well, go on, take off your dress for now. We've got to get you into something!"

Obediently she pulled the dress over her head and was left standing in the corset Adele had laced her in that morning. Thankfully she had told Sarah it was not worn everyday, only under certain pieces. Right now she felt like a model in the underwear department of the mall...

The morning was spent with Lila, tugging clothes over her head, measuring, pinning, picking colors. The woman was hilarious, but Sarah felt herself exhausted after the first hour.

They were nearly finished-all that was left were the nightclothes. Her mind grumbled that she'd already had quite enough of that. She tried to pick the pieces with the most coverage, for fear of any more impromptu visitors, but Lila wasn't having it. She produced a midnight blue, silky number, cut straight across the top, no sleeves. It buttoned up the back and ended in a kind a skirt above the knee, a giant slit cut up her left thigh.

"What is this?" she squealed at the mirror. It was WAY too Moulin Rouge.

Lila frowned, then laughed. "Bedclothes, Sarah! You have to sleep in something. Or would you prefer nothing?" she smirked suggestively, finishing the last button.

"Of course I prefer SOMETHING!" she squeaked. Lila only laughed louder.

"This is my personal favorite. It is his majesty's favorite color, after all. And buttons, well..." She took to circling Sarah like a shark around the platform, making sure it fit at all angles.

"His majesty's favorite color," Sarah repeated, face in the mirror falling. And then she thought of Jareth's fingers nimbly undoing every last button...

"Lila!"

"Hmm?" she said distractedly, circling back to the front.

"This is for JARETH?" she hissed, eyes ablaze.

The seamstress looked puzzled. "Of course. Who _else_ would it be for?"

"Done already? That was quick. I thought surely-" Jareth halted dead in the doorway, choking mid-sentence, suddenly stripped of his normal composure.

Sarah rounded on the platform, nearly tumbling off. For a second they only stared at each other, Sarah in plain horror, Jareth in stunned appreciation. Suddenly her cheeks flushed darkly, and he caught himself, tearing his eyes away. Slowly he backed out and shut the door. Once safe in the hallway he fell against the stone wall and shook his head, eyes wide. That image of Sarah refused to flee his mind. "Dear Gods..."

Lila was already unbuttoning Sarah inside. "Such a pity." The words were like ice down her back. "Now you've ruined the surprise," she sighed.

Sarah simply clamped her mouth shut with a squeal and said nothing for the rest of the morning.

* * *

She did not call him again, simply stalked down the hallway they had walked earlier that morning. Her head was reeling, too angry to form organized thoughts. All Sarah knew was that she needed to find the Goblin King and give him a piece of her mind-

Rounding a corner when blinded by fury is never a wise thing. Sarah collided with Adamo and parchment when flying. It took them a moment to get steady again, a sense of vertigo overcoming both. The advisor straightened his glasses and Sarah came into focus. "Hello, my dear!" His face fell at her unhappy demeanor. "What's the trouble?"

"Where is he?" she growled through gritted teeth.

"Oh..." Surprised at her in this fowl mood, he was temporarily at a loss for words. "In his study, I assume. I'm on my way there now."

She nodded and scooped up the papers, face softening a little with guilt. "Sorry about that."

He patted her shoulder, grandfatherly smile back. "No need. Let's go find him." Adamo did not ask, but if it riled Sarah this bad Jareth was in for it.

Sarah was lost quickly in the coiling hallways. This castle was more of a maze than the actual Labyrinth! No wonder everyone enjoyed transporting magically. They came to a winding set of stairs and climbed them, ending at a rather imposing door. Adamo knocked once, and a muffled "come in" answered them.

"I've brought the paperwork you requested, and a visitor," Adamo whispered to Jareth, who was seated at a large leather wing-backed chair behind a desk.

Sarah was momentarily awestruck. Obviously they were in a tower-the room was circular. Shelves and windows alternated along the walls, filled with books and other strange items. The ceiling rose high into a point, a second level visible above the first. A fireplace was situated next to the door they had just entered and a long leather couch was pushed against the opposite wall. Then she remembered Jareth, who turned to her, face impassive.

Sensing the sudden tension, Adamo made for escape. "I'll just collect those later..." and he backed out of the door.

Silence. They simply stared at each other. Sarah's anger got the better of her, and her words came first.

"So. Is that what everyone here thinks I am?" she snarled bitterly, arms crossed.

"Sarah-" he started, rising from his desk.

"Some kind of mortal courtesan? A sudden fancy you've taken to? How much of what you've told me is a lie?" Her face was hot, her eyes were hot-quickly she moved away from him to a window.

"Sarah," he said again, this time a whisper. "Never." She closed her eyes, burning tears rolling down her cheeks. "I would never, ever take advantage of you. And not everyone thinks that-you are a hero here, the girl who beat the Labyrinth. A legend!" She could feel him close to her now, somewhere at her back. "And I have never lied to you. Look. Look out the window."

Sarah did look, the view startlingly high. He laid a gloved hand on her shoulder, but she did not shy away from it. "See there?" Jareth pointed with his other hand and she gasped.

The outside walls of the Labyrinth had crumbled, piles and piles of ruined stone. It looked like a battlefield, a wounded beast. Her chest twisted painfully at it, made her ill.

"That was what half the Labyrinth looked like before you got here. The dreams inside you are so strong that they have healed that much already." He brought his other hand to her shoulder. Her head sagged a little. She wanted to believe him, so bad that it ached. "When you wake up in the morning, all of that will be fixed." Gently he steered her away from the window and onto the leather couch.

She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, still seeing the mangled, dead horror. Her resolve cried out piteously not to let Jareth see any more of her tears, any more of her weakness. But his hands were still on her arms, and it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Jareth rubbed her arms, not knowing what else to do. "Adamo warned me that this would happen," he sighed. "That people would make assumptions and jump to conclusions. The beginning of wicked rumors. Thankfully, hardly anyone knows you've arrived yet. Lila could start something, unknowingly of course. It's just in her-"

"Nature?" Sarah supplied, hand dropping down to her lap. The feel of his leather gloves smoothing her skin was alarmingly comforting.

"Mmhmm. But we can put a halt to it." Jareth dropped his hands, seeing Sarah recover a little. She turned to face him, all evidence of tears gone.

"How?"

Jareth was having a hard time meeting her gaze. "I'm afraid we cannot simply tell them why you came back. That you have a part of my magic. They'll seek to take advantage of your mortal state and find ways to...manipulate it from you. That's nearly impossible, of course, but they will be spurred by too much greed to care. Not everyone loves the Labyrinth as much as you, Sarah." He did turn then, to see her horror-struck.

"Then what _do_ we do?" She had not counted on this, on impending physical harm.

"The only thing we can. Spread a faster rumor of our courtship." Jareth watched with disappointment as her face fell, becoming devoid of all emotion.

"Courtship," she repeated, tasting the word on her tongue and staring somewhere past him. "Date...the Goblin King." The corners of her mouth twitched up, laughter bubbling in her stomach. And then she broke into a wide grin, focusing back on his face. "You want to tell the Underground that we're going out?" she spluttered, eyes suddenly alight with some joke.

Jareth frowned. "I still prefer the term 'courtship,'" he grumbled at her lack of seriousness. She continued to laugh. It was almost...absurd, some cruel joke he was playing. Her, Sarah Williams, _dating_ this beautiful, otherworldly, impossibly haughty creature- She ceased her laughter when she saw Jareth's face. "But yes, that is essentially the idea."

"Well, how would that be any different? Besides putting a name to it? For all they know, I'd still be in-" She stopped suddenly, mortified. That was not how she had wanted to say that-

"My bed?" he finished harshly. She stared at a part of the rug and flushed hotly. "While many will probably still assume our level of romantic involvement, wouldn't you rather have it seen this way?" Carefully he cupped her chin, tilting her gaze back up to him. "As a lover instead of paid company?" His voice had softened again, painstakingly controlled. Sarah's heart was throbbing at the ease with which he said those words. "Besides," he continued, releasing his hold, "my courtship to you means that I not only desire you-I respect you."

Sarah rolled the words around in her head as he stood and walked to the window. 'Not only desire you-' Her limbs tingled. Did he realize what he'd said?

"Of course, the gossip will still be plentiful, no one can help that. As a King I am expected to take whatever I want and do as I please. In this way I am supposed to show my power, my right to rule as I see fit." He sighed and watched his kingdom for a minute. Then with a graceful turn of his heel he faced her, twisting his wrist in the air, the motion reminiscent of six years past. But no shining sphere appeared. Jareth stepped closer and held out his open palm to Sarah, and she rose to look inside.

It was a tiny silver locket on a delicate chain. The Labyrinth's winding image was imprinted onto the small disk, no bigger than a quarter, and an emerald was placed carefully at it's center.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, tracing the pathways with a finger. Sarah looked up to find Jareth watching her. "What is it for?"

"Courtship in the Underground is shown by presenting the lady with an item of affection. To show that the suitor cares about her. Usually she wears something with a symbol relating to the man, so there is no question that they belong to each other." Jareth said it slowly, judging her reaction. Still his hand was outstretched, waiting.

She frowned. "Belong to each other-like a possession?" That was not what she wanted, to be Jareth's pet and wear his collar.

"No," he chuckled. "Belong to each other, as in their attentions are reserved only for the other. No one else comes between them." Poor Sarah, always making things complicated.

"Oh," she nodded, a little embarrassed at her assumption. "Well, then I suppose we can..."

He withdrew his hand and walked behind her, unclasping the chain. Quickly Sarah moved her hair out of the way, and he draped the locket on her chest, the clasp resonating a satisfied click. She let down her hair and fingered the necklace, warm against her skin.

"So, what does this mean now?" she asked, turning to face him. Jareth looked puzzled and instantly she regretted opening her mouth. "I mean, I guess it's only for when we have company, or..." she trailed off, a wave of disappointment smothering her.

He laughed and took the hand fumbling with the locket. "Of course not, my dear. I have pledged myself to , and our courtship will be as genuine as any other." He raised an eyebrow at her, lips parting in a knowing grin. "Unless you wish to only appear infatuated in company, of course."

She blushed heartily. A trap. What was that tingling in her stomach? "No, no! I mean, I wouldn't mind if-that is-" Jareth silenced her with a kiss to the back of her hand.

"That's what I thought," he purred and wrapped her arm about his own. "Now-let's go find Adamo and Lila. I'm sure they'll have a few choice things to say to the both of us." And he swept her from the tower.


	9. IX:Hounded

Here we go, chapter nine! I know this is much shorter than some of the others, but later ones have quite a bit of meat to them. Hopefully I can make it up to you. I apologize in advance if there are a few errors-my mind has been wondering between this story and another that I'm working on(it should be coming to soon, maybe in a week or so. And, yes, it is for Labyrinth. Look for it!).

I want to give a shout-out to **ghostdolly-**that was probably the most flattering, encouraging review I've gotten yet! Thank you thank you thank you to **all** of my reviewers...I love you guys!

E. Jane

* * *

IX

Hounded

Jareth led them down to the patio again for lunch where they met Adamo and Lila. The poor seamstress choked on her tea when the couple came down arm in arm and she spotted the locket. Adamo had to pat her back rather roughly in order to calm her down, but was throwing a decidedly devilish grin their way.

Conversation quickly became an embarrassing impossibility. Sarah could not speak for the stares, Lila was horrified at her earlier assumption, and Adamo looked smug. Jareth simply did not feel the need to talk to an unresponsive audience, and said nothing. So they ate in silence, carefully avoiding eye contact, until Lila rose with some excuse and hurried away.

"Interesting morning," Adamo muttered good-naturedly, receiving only polite nods from the other two. "Well...I'm going to go take care of a few things. Sarah, have you been to the gardens yet?" She shook her head. "I think you will be pleasantly surprised," he winked. Already she was feeling better. As he stood he turned to Jareth. "I'm afraid you have several letters that need replying to before dinner, but take some time out for a break, will you? Been working much too hard lately," he teased, then vanished on the spot.

Immediately Sarah was uncomfortable. Being alone with Jareth after what had transpired earlier was awkward, but he did not seem to feel that way at all. He rose gracefully and helped Sarah to her feet, and the next second they were under the willow tree.

She put a hand out to part the leaves and step into the sunshine, but Jareth drew it back with a smile.

"What?" she blinked, confused. She was eager to tend to her beautiful flowers.

"Close your eyes," he said simply. Sarah gave him a questioning look, but he only shook his head.

"Fine." She shut her eyes to his wicked grin and waited. This was ridiculous... Then the feel of soft leather was over her eyes, like a blindfold. "Jareth!"

"No," he chuckled, refusing to remove his hands despite the struggle. "Now, picture the flowers in your mind, just as they were yesterday." She nodded. "Walk on out." Sarah did so, slowly, Jareth's fingers never leaving her lids. There was no way to know where he was guiding her, but after a few moments they stopped. "Alright. Look."

He removed his hands and Sarah blinked again, this time at the sight before her.

Where yesterday there had only been a handful of blooms, there were now at least two-hundred happily swaying in the breeze. Delightedly she ran to them and caught a whiff of honey. It was sweet, vibrant, and warm. She knelt to stroke a petal and looked to Jareth over her shoulder. "How did there get to be so many?"

"It's the magic you've brought back, Sarah." The earlier conversation came back to her, and she was filled with guilt. "There will be twice as many tomorrow." As she rose she plucked one of the small flowers, apology on her lips, but he shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. I should have warned you," his eyes softened, "but you were just too happy last night."

Sarah walked back to him with a smile of her own. "And completely out of it, thanks to Adamo's wine."

"Hmm, that too." Softly he withdrew the flower from her grasp and tucked it behind her ear.

"Bark, bark! Barkbarkbark!" A wild, sandy-colored flurry came bounding across the grass, ears flopping.

"Loki!" the two said in unison, although Sarah's was joyful and Jareth's more of a reprimand.

"Loki, no," Jareth warned loudly. "Loki, halt!" But it was too late. Tongue flying, the hound leaped, planting his large paws firmly on Jareth's chest, sending them both tumbling to the grass. They rolled for a ways, Sarah giggling madly.

"What the devil, Loki!" Jareth exclaimed, trying to push him off. But the dog was too heavy. "Gerroff!" he shouted into the fur, but he didn't budge.

"Loki, c'mere boy!" Sarah called. Tail waving manically, he bounded off Jareth and came to her side. He did not pounce, merely nudged her knees until his ears were scratched.

"Scoundrel," Jareth shot darkly as he rose, watching the dog roll so Sarah could rub his belly.

"What kind of dog is he, really?" she wondered as the disheveled king made his way back over.

"The magical kind. Watch." He knelt beside the dog. "Shrink, Loki." Sarah gasped as she watched the large dog shrink to the size of her head.

"Amazing!" He barked in agreement, suddenly very high pitched.

"Now, grow back, bigger this time," he commanded. He did-so big, in fact, that Sarah had to stumble out of the way. His head reached to her shoulders.

"Trot around the pond and show Sarah what else you can do," Jareth instructed proudly, and Loki took off. Stunned, Sarah watched as he changed from golden retriever to sheltie, greyhound, dalmatian, and a slew of other breeds. But always his eyes remained the same. When he had come full circle, Jareth ruffled the fur atop his head fondly and he changed back to normal. "Good boy."

"And he understands you?" she guessed, stroking his back.

"Of course."

"And you can understand him?" She was fascinated by the level of communication that they shared.

"Every word."

"Amazing," she whispered again. "You are a lovely dog," she told him sincerely, and he nudged her hand in response.

Jareth smiled at the two. It was not everyday Loki took to someone so adamantly.

"Here, Sarah," he offered, and she looked up to see him holding a watering can. "Look-you can fill it from the pond." They all walked to the edge of the sparkling water and Jareth dipped the can over its surface. He passed it to Sarah full.

"That's incredibly handy," she said, taking it from him with care not to spill any liquid. She looked back up to thank him, but burst into a fit of giggles and had to set it down.

"What?" he asked, rather dismayed. He turned to Loki, who wasn't any help. Eventually she straightened, wiping tears from her eyes.

"It's just-" she reached up and put both hands in his golden locks, ruffling through them. "-there's all of this _grass_ in your hair!" Sarah took to plucking it out. There was so much trapped under all of those layers... The softness of it mesmerized her for a moment, like a feather, silky on her fingertips. Lazily she noticed they were standing very close-were his hands on her waist? She looked into his suddenly intense eyes-they were coming closer, she was sure-

"Bark!" came the loud boom, and Sarah shrieked loudly, tumbling into Jareth's arms. Both of them groped at air, then-

Splash!

They were soaked, the pond rippling around them. Loki wagged happily and followed suit, jumping into the warm waters.

"Loki!" the unwilling swimmers yelled, and a water fight between dog, human, and Fae ensued, the likes of which none had seen before.

* * *

"Alright, that's enough," Jareth proclaimed cheerfully when Sarah managed to hit him full in the face with a wall of water. With ease he caught her struggling, laughing form and hoisted her into his arms, then sloshed to the shore.

"Cheater," she retorted, but felt no meanness behind it. Quite the contrary-Sarah had not enjoyed herself this much in...a long time.

"Absolutely, if it means saving the lady from the water beast," he laughed, looking pointedly at Loki and setting Sarah on the ground.

Exhausted, they lay dripping on the warm grass. Sarah's dress clung to her nastily, and she tried wringing it out, to no avail. Her hair had come down, plastered to her head. But it was nowhere near as bad as Jareth's. He looked like a half-drowned cat, although his locks had turned a beautiful wheat color. The breath in her throat hitched to think that her fingers had been in it only a little while ago. Simultaneously Jareth and Loki shook, sending the spray in every direction. Then they flopped back down and enjoyed the pulsing sun.

Just when she was close to sleep, Sarah remembered why they were here in the first place. Silently she stood and walked back to the pond to retrieve the watering can. Jareth watched her with one eye open as she brought it back to the thirsty flowers, and Loki twisted around on his back, trying to rid an insufferable itch.

She looked rather like a water nymph, he thought, beautiful in her bedraggled clothes. They were a little drier, but still sticky. He smiled at the look Lila would give them if she saw her creations now.

Sarah turned from her flowers to find Jareth looking her up and down. Hastily she turned away, not sure how to handle his open scrutiny. That and the grin plastered lazily on his face. She told herself she shouldn't be surprised. He was a king, could do anything he pleased, and technically she was his now.

His words from before tickled her mind.

'...belong to _each other_.'

Ah. So _he_ also belonged to _her_...

"Jareth?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, stretching beside Loki like a lion in the sun. Sarah suppressed the rising desire to return and join him.

"Didn't Adamo say that you had letters to reply to before dinner?" she asked innocently as she went back to watering her flowers, if only so that he would not see her smirk.

"So he did," the voice whispered in her ear, arms carefully encircling her from behind. "Thank you for keeping me in line, dear," he chuckled and kissed her temple. Sarah's bones turned to water, the deep rumble in his chest reverberating into her back. "I trust you can find your way back once you are finished," he continued to mumble against her skin, "but I'll leave Loki, just in case." She nodded mutely and spun to see that she and the dog were alone.

"How does he DO that?" she asked Loki. He blinked as if to shrug. Sarah sighed, trying to regain some rigidity to her limbs, and continued watering. 'Courting' was a strong word, and everything was going to change because of it.

Jareth appeared in his tower grinning like a fool. He noticed the water dripping from his clothes to the floor, making an impressive puddle, but dried himself with a single wave of his hand.

The piles of paperwork and letters on his desk abruptly killed his happy mood. With a grumble he resigned himself to the leather chair and tucked in. For all the glories that came with being a king, three times as much work could be found.

Not five minutes into his task there was a knock on the door. Hardly noticing, he managed to mutter something to grant entrance and Adamo stepped inside.

"Ah, already at it, I see. I merely came to inform you that the Lady Aska is on her way. She should arrive late tomorrow morning," he reported, leaning against the fireplace. Jareth mumbled something in reply, shifting papers about on his desk. His adviser did not miss the gleam in his eye, even through his obvious distaste for the work at hand. Deciding now was not the time to question what had happened earlier with Sarah, he made to leave his king in peace. But he stopped in the middle of the room with an amused look.

"Jareth, why in the Underground is your rug soaked?"


	10. X:Picnics and Pianos

X

Picnics and Pianos

The darkness was nearly tangible, wrapping itself around the columns of the hall like a living creature. But the woman stood in deep contrast to the blackness-pale porcelain skin, silvery hair catching what light burned in the dying flames of the torches. Her obsidian eyes were the only dark thing about her, and she stared into them-into the reflection of herself in the mirror.

"Show me the Labyrinth," she commanded, and the surface of the mirror wavered like water. A swirling mist rotated at its core, parting like a curtain to reveal something else entirely. There were the high outer walls of the maze rising sharply against the sky, glinting with magic. It was almost like a window, so incredibly real to the senses, that one would be compelled to reach out and touch it. "Impossible!" she spat, smooth skin creasing with rage. "Only a few days ago it was half ruined-I was so close!" She growled low in her throat, an ominous rumble that echoed through the empty hall.

"Show me Jareth." The image flickered to a patio of black stone, three figures talking merrily over a table of food. Her light eyebrows rose into her hair as she surveyed the scene. There was Jareth, looking uncharacteristically happy, and his advisor. And...

"It can't be," she whispered, nose to the glass. A grin crept onto her face as she analyzed the girl. "Little Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth returned? Oh!" she cackled aloud, even though she was alone. "Jareth, I did not think you would have the gall to beg for her return. And look...the emblem around her neck. Does that not signify courtship?" She spun from the mirror and it returned to a seemingly regular piece of glass. "I remember when something rather similar belonged to me. But no matter." Quickly she took to her throne, spine rigid, staring off into the dark. It was so thick that the hall seemed to stretch on indefinitely. "Really, it is lucky-perhaps I can use this little twist in my favor, with amusement to spare."

With barely any effort the woman reached out to the side and pulled a braided chord. The tassel swung haphazardly after the release, a chime sounding far away, out of earshot. A tiny creature scampered to her feet, features unrecognizable in the dimness.

"Your Majesty," it muttered.

"Bring forth the shadow servants," she demanded imperiously before sinking into the cushions. "I have a job for them to do."

* * *

Sarah swung the basket to and fro happily, twirling the simple sundress in her fingers. Hoggle walked beside her on the way to the woods. They were going to meet Didymus and Ludo there for a picnic lunch, to catch up on things. She felt abominably guilty for not visiting them earlier, but so much had happened the last few days. More than anything Sarah was ashamed of her previous fainting, of not recognizing them as her friends that night in the cottage.

"Almost there," Hoggle huffed, and the two emerged from a small group of trees into a tiny clearing. A large open space filled with rich sunlight was before them.

She could not help but feel her inhibitions melt away when she saw the two. They looked so eager, so willing-Sarah ran to them, crying, "Ludo! Didymus!" Instantly she was caught in a red trap of arms, the beast nearly squeezing her to pieces.

"My lady!" the knight proclaimed. "Thou hast returned! And, my, your beauty doth shame the moon herself!" With a funny bow he swept the feathered cap from his head.

"And you are as valiant as ever," she curtsied amidst her giggles once Ludo released her.

The four friends spread out the large blanket, Didymus shouting directions to it's placement as if organizing troops. Hoggle eventually pulled a loaf of bread from the basket and stuffed it into his muzzle like a cork. Ludo and Sarah ended up squaring the blanket precisely in the center of the clearing, where the sun shone the brightest.

Once they were seated Sarah poured the remaining contents of the basket into a pile between them. Mainly it consisted of snack-like foods-bread, cheese, fruits. Everyone grabbed something and began to devour the simple banquet.

"Sawah pwetty necklace," Ludo beamed through the crumbs stuck in his mane.

"Oh..." she said, looking down to the locket. "Thank you, Ludo." Carefully she took a bite of an apple, twisting the charm between her fingers where it flashed in the light.

"Indeed, it suits your person most perfectly," praised Didymus. "Pray tell, where didst thou find a trinket with the Labyrinth in such detail?"

Sarah chewed very slowly before answering. "...Jareth...gave it to me." She became quite interested in the scarlet hue of the apple's skin, avoiding the stares.

Hoggle rose one very bushy eyebrow-well, the left side of it. Technically, Sarah could never discern between the right and left portions. "Did he now?" Something in the way he stated it made her blush a shade or two darker than the fruit. "It wouldn't be in...ah. I duh know. A gesture of courtship, or nothin', would it?"

She nearly choked on her second bite as the rest of the party turned from the dwarf to her.

"It's for my protection," Sarah managed after a swig of water from the canteen, deciding to skirt the question completely. "Otherwise people will..." She weighed the remainder of the apple carefully in her palm. "Make assumptions." Hoggle grunted, clearly stating he had done just that. "But enough about me. What have you three been up to since we last saw each other?"

Didymus jumped to his tiny feet and raised a paw in the air. "I hath returned to my sworn duty, guarding the Bridge of the Bog with my life! It is rebuilt, a sturdy fortress of stone!" he proclaimed. "Brother Ludo assisted me, did you not?"

"Ludo call more rocks," he admitted shyly. "Better bridge, smell still baaaad." His nose wrinkled and Sarah pressed her lips together tightly in an effort not to laugh. He was the most adorable monstrosity she had ever seen.

"What about you, Hoggle?" she asked her dearest friend.

The dwarf shrugged. "I's the gardener, so I garden. Lately _Jareth's_ been makin' us repair some of the Labyrinth walls, but there 'aint the need now. But _Jareth_'ll find work ter do, always does. See, _Jareth_-"

Alright, that was just about enough! Sarah's flushed complexion was turning from sheer embarrassment to quick anger. He was only repeating the Goblin King's name like that to see what kind of effect it would have on her. And it was working miserably.

"I'm going to try and visit you all as much as possible," she cut in. The other two seemed confused at the spectacle before them, but wisely kept silent. "After all-we have forever now."

The mood lightened immediately, Hoggle's smug grin turning to one of pure joy. They let out whoops of merriment at that, and for the rest of lunch talked of plans for the future.

* * *

"Jareth, she's stunning!" the woman exclaimed at the image of Sarah in the crystal. "Certainly there is work to be done, but her beauty is astounding. Just like you to find the prettiest girl out of the two worlds." She turned, voluminous skirts and furry stole whipping about. Her warm brown eyes were happy, cheeks tickled with rouge, and curly auburn hair swept back in complicated plaits. She held herself with an imposing posture-the kind of stance that earned respect, made other women scowl with jealousy, and halted men in their tracks. "What do you want me to teach her?"

Jareth beamed at her approval of Sarah. "Everything, Lady Aska. There are a limited number of days before we travel to Marraine, and she must be wholly prepared. Skip absolutely nothing."

"As you wish, dear boy, as you wish. She will be the envy of the celebration, I assure you. Now, I must go prepare!" With a graceful nod she strode from the room.

"Indeed," Jareth murmured at the crystal.

* * *

Her friends were back to their daily routine, so Sarah trooped to the castle alone. Seeing them again had given her an immense feeling of satisfaction-it brought her previous adventures back in a sparkling, absolutely concrete reality. To know that she was not simply mad, dreaming up all of these fantastic things, was comforting. Everything was so...GOOD. Her mood was euphoric, putting a spring in her step that Sarah had not known she lacked. She swung the empty basket around her as she skipped up the castle steps, steps she had stormed six years earlier, and threw the doors wide.

The instant she stepped over the threshold Sarah was enveloped in a tangle of fur, lace, and sweet perfume. Blinded by the lush fabrics and sudden movement, she was paralyzed. Strong arms pulled her into a bear hug and a dainty kiss was placed on both cheeks.

"Ah, Sarah!" The woman held her at arms length. "I'm so glad I found you before Jareth tried to introduce us properly. I am Lady Aska, Royal Etiquette Mistress of the High Court." Her curtsy was magnificently executed. "I will teach you everything you need to know, in order to become a proper lady."

Sarah bowed her head, not knowing how else to respond, and said, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Aska."

The woman clapped her hands in a somewhat girlish fashion, delight on her cheeks. "Very good! But listen here..." She put an arm about the girl's shoulders and drew her near as if to tell a very tantalizing secret. "I teach more than mere manners, beyond the code of prim and proper. You will learn with me the ways of the powerful woman-the woman who always gets what she wants." Aska winked at that. "Men will lie in the streets for you with the blink of an eye, the turn of a wrist. Diplomats will cower in your wake and esteem you simultaneously." The ardent promises of such power startled Sarah, coupled with this zealous woman. "Words, when said in the right fashion, are very compelling, my dear," she continued, nodding. "Oh. And while we must behave civil in public, namely the Goblin King's presence, we are not required to be so rigid with lessons." Sarah felt a smile spreading over her face, mirroring the one on the lady before her.

Distant clicking of boot heels on polished stone echoed to them from down the hall, and Aska turned to the girl with a twinkle in her eye. "Speak of the devil. I think this should be lesson one-a demonstration. Watch this," she commanded with all the intensity of a teenager performing some dangerous stunt.

Her bubbly demeanor seemed to slide to the floor, leaving behind a seamless, somewhat cold, mask of indifference. Shoulders square, chin high, hands folded, the Lady was the perfect picture of a queen. The energy she radiated filled the entire entrance hall, making her seem ten feet tall. Sarah retreated a little and suppressed the urge to cower.

Jareth rounded the corner, immaculately dressed in a deep blue painter's shirt and breeches. Such two powerful creatures were in the same room, filling it up, that it wasn't big enough for Sarah. Her lack of intimidating aura was astounding compared to them.

Lady Aska extended a slender hand as he approached, which Jareth bowed over politely and placed a chaste kiss upon. "I see that you have met the Lady Sarah," he grinned, straightening. Fleetingly his gaze passed to the girl, breaking eye contact with the instructor. But that was Jareth-his charisma let him get away with an awful lot, bending the rules and slipping through loopholes. It was simply his character. The slight rebel in him, the untamed beast beneath his kingly refinement, was perhaps why so many were drawn to him. And _knowing_ he could get away with it made trouble all the sweeter.

"Indeed," she replied, turning her warm brown eyes on Sarah. "Come here, my child, so that I might greet you properly," Asak beckoned. She obeyed, playing along with the charade. The woman curtsied a second time, this one a deep flourishing of the skirts and neck. "I, Lady Aska, am humbled at the opportunity to tutor such a fine companion of the king's. The social graces of our world will become second nature to you within the first lesson." She rose, joyful mouth in an unfeeling line. Sarah would have never guessed this was the same person as before, and it puzzled her thoroughly that someone could make the change so rapidly, as if throwing a switch.

She returned the curtsy nonetheless, feeling Jareth's eyes traveling to her in close speculation. "I am honored to be taught by such an accomplished, refined teacher. Your lessons are looked forward to." Well, she _had_ been an actress.

"Very well. We will begin after dinner, for a short introduction to the materials. There is very little time to waste." The lady turned to Jareth and bowed her head. "Your majesty." And then she strode purposefully from the hall.

He shook his head after the retreating woman. "I'm almost afraid of what she might try to teach you. But, all's fair in love and war..." His mind wondered for a moment, then he faced Sarah. "How was lunch?"

Her face brightened considerably now that the room was not sparking with power. "Spectacular."

"Good." He grinned and retrieved the basket she was still clutching. With a twist of the hand it vanished. "We have the rest of the day to do whatever you like. At least until dinner, when Aska will lecture you on cutlery and proper posture."

"I thought lessons were _after_ dinner," Sarah tried to point out as Jareth offered his arm.

"She's sneaky, that Aska." Indeed, thought Sarah. "Now. What would you like to do?"

She thought for a moment. "Show me something," she decided.

"As in..." Jareth prompted at the vague statement.

"Anything, something I haven't seen yet. A surprise." Sure, a little ambiguous, but let him pick the afternoon's festivities.

Sarah, Sarah, that mouth could get her in trouble. Ah, the things he _could_ show her...he smirked. Play innocent, Jareth, he warned himself.

"Alright. Follow me."

They took off through a winding series of halls. Sarah contemplated commissioning a map from Adamo later-otherwise she would continue to need escorts to find anything. Eventually they reached a winding set of stairs.

"Hold on! This is your study-we were here yesterday morning!" she concluded accusingly. There was no reply, however, and Jareth took the stairs two at a time. Sarah gathered her skirts and followed suit. At the top she rested, slightly winded, but he did not wait for her. He was already inside, climbing to the second level of the tower via _another_ staircase. This one was a handsome wood, ornately carved, and hugged the wall as it spiraled up. She took a deep breath and followed a little slower.

Her head emerged first, letting her eyes level with the thick red rug. At the last step she stopped to take it all in.

Nearly twenty feet above the first level, this second level of the tower was no more than forty feet in diameter, as it continued to narrow into the peak of the roof. The walls slanted in and the floor was circular, like a donut. The cut-out center looked down into the study below, intricate banner from the stairs continuing up to wrap around the open space.

Chairs fit for giants made inviting seats paired with small tables and lamps for reading. Sarah thought briefly of a treehouse, secret club, or some other hide-away. There was one wide window with a large telescope for stargazing, and a single ancient wooden door. Puzzled, she pointed to it. "There shouldn't be a door here...it would only lead outside to thin air!"

Jareth's secretive smile grew, if that was possible. "And _that_ is what makes it a surprise." He swung the door outwards, into what should have been the sky, but instead a long marble hall was revealed. Jaw slack, Sarah stepped inside after testing her footing, heels clicking against the polished stone. It was darker in here-the impossibly lengthy hall was lined with windows on both sides, veiled by thick translucent curtains. They billowed with an unfelt breeze, sweeping from floor to twenty foot ceilings. Pillars stood like sentries between the glass. What light trickled in seemed to be the sort seen during a thunderstorm, grey and thick with thoughts, even though she had been out in the sun not long before.

And in the center, waiting, was a piano. A glassy, ebony baby-grand. Without thinking Sarah strode to it, pulled to it's silent beauty, Jareth close behind. When she reached it she could see her reflection inside, so pristine was the surface. The instrument looked almost breakable and she held back, though her fingers itched to touch the ivory keys.

"Go on, sit," Jareth prompted quietly, motioning Sarah to the cushioned stool. She slid into place and traced the fine keys, too excited to play. They were cool under her fingers and the air was thick with magic.

"What is this place?" she whispered with the reverence the situation seemed to demand.

"It does not have a name," he admitted, "but it is one of my favorite places to think." With a single gloved finger he reached down and plucked a key. The deep low note reverberated around the hall, sending goose bumps up Sarah's arms. "Quiet, peaceful." Another note, lower still.

"Do you play?" There really was no need for the question. The way he caressed the keys like a lover, the tender look in his eyes, was evidence enough.

"When I can. Lately, however, things have been a little hectic. But if I need an escape..."

Sarah nodded. Jareth thought she painted a pretty picture there, at his mother's piano. Especially when she leaned her head atop the mantle and trailed her fingers noiselessly along the length of the keys, as if through water. As if the piano were speaking softly in her ear.

"It can be your escape, too. Whenever you need it." His voice was warm and sincere, the faintest hint of an ache beneath. Sarah turned to him with gratitude in her eyes.

She marveled at the gesture and the trust he was showing in her. Obviously this was a very private place, one that not even Adamo ventured into. There was the significant feeling of memories on the air, the grand place harboring days long past. And to share that with her was akin to putting his heart on a platter. Silently she rose and took his hand in her own, giving his fingers a grateful squeeze. "Thank you." He smiled.

"You're welcome."

The castle's inhabitants turned in early from the exhaustion of the last few days. Even the staff(_particularly_ the staff) were worn thin from preparing the castle for the new resident. Etiquette lessons were postponed, due to Lady Aska's long journey-no need to strain herself tonight. Only in sleep were the pressures of the day relieved, sweet darkness that let them indulge in needed rest.

But another darkness, a bitter, foreign kind, was stealing through the Labyrinth. It did not negotiate the maze, simply slid over walls and through obstacles. Urgent as the business was, it took care not to wake any of the inhabitants, which slowed it's progress minutely. The castle would not be reached tonight...no, it would take more time. Sunlight halted it's progress altogether, but it could travel tomorrow night. Saving it's energy for the strenuous task ahead, it slithered to a stop outside of the Bog of Eternal Stench and waited to carry out the instructions from it's master.

In the castle they slept, unaware of the presence the Labyrinth had not seen in centuries, blissful in ignorance.


	11. XI:In Between

_It's been a long time, much too long, and I apologize. Life gets into the mix, as well as my other Labyrinth story. But here's another chapter, just for you! Your reviews and support continue to amaze me. Keep them coming!_

_E. Jane_

* * *

XI

In Between

He hated to wake her so early, but Aska requested a jump start to the day.There was a staggering amount of material to brief her on, more than simple etiquette techniques. Essential politics and people needed to be brought to her attention or this would never work. So Jareth sighed and knocked delicately on Sarah's door.

"Sarah?" He opened it a crack and stuck his head through. The lump in the bed did not stir beneath the tangled sheets.

After several attempts at waking her by name, Jareth was left with no alternative. She was a ridiculously heavy sleeper, he thought. Quietly he stole to the edge of the bed and jostled her. Moaning, the lump retreated farther into the covers.

"Really, Sarah!" he said in exasperation. "It isn't _that_ early. You act as if you were awake all night." Frustrated at the lack of response, he tugged lightly on the covers. "I'll drag you out and dress you myself," came the taunting threat. Still nothing. Odd, that should have done the trick. "Alright...you asked for it," he muttered and heaved the blankets. They fell away to the floor in a silken mass at his feet, leaving the lump cold in the morning air.

"_Loki_!"

* * *

Sarah could hear the yell all the way down at the steps of the castle. Poor dog, getting into mischief again. She made a mental not to bother Jareth in the morning-it seemed that was when his mood was worst.

She, however, loved the morning, today at least. Sarah had slept so well last night that she woke before the sun and decided on a run around the castle grounds. It was nice being able to see it this way, to observe it in a more quiet manner. All her thoughts were purely her own and she could mull them over however she wished. Even the trees seemed to be sleeping, swaying in the gentle breeze. The earth breathed beneath her feet, a steady, calming effect even as her heart raced and breath hitched from the run.

Languidly she stretched and took up the castle steps. Best to find Jareth, or Loki would wind up in the bog.

The wrestling match between dog and fae was long over, finding Jareth pinned helplessly beneath the great beast. "Cheater," he growled at the smiling dog, a St. Bernard four times the normal size laying serenely on his chest and wagging happily.

Technically, Jareth had started it by leaping onto the bed at Loki and they had grappled for a while. But even Jareth's magic could not help him, and so there he was, and until someone found him, there he would stay. It was absolutely out of the question to call for aid-his pride would not allow it.

Just when he had about decided to send the rest of his pride to the bog, Sarah burst in. Her hair was awry from running, cheeks a rosy pink, breath shallow and fast. The ensemble she wore was somewhat strange...shorts, he thought faintly, brain activity cumbersome with this weight on his chest.

"Loki!" Sarah exclaimed looking from dog to owner, then the tangle of sheets on her floor. "What happened?"

"Ask...him," Jareth rasped beneath the dog.

She bit her lip at the sight of the Goblin King at Loki's mercy. "C'mere, Loki! Come see me?" Sarah beckoned, crouching on the ground by the door. He let out a joyful bark but stayed put. "Now, Loki. Really," she reprimanded and came to the bed to ruffle his fur. "You'll flatten poor Jareth."

"Poor...Jareth...nothing," he muttered.

Sarah tried prying the paws from his chest, tickling his ribcage, but he only licked her face in response. Exhausted, she flopped down beside them.

"Don't-" Jareth tried, but it was too late. Loki had already morphed again, settling over them both. Sarah was lucky enough to get his front half-Jareth was being wacked repeatedly by the bushy tail of a mammoth Siberian Husky.

"Some game," Sarah sighed into a bunch of fur. Jareth grunted. At least Loki wasn't cutting off anyone's air supply, but their legs were pinned to the bed. They weren't going anywhere.

"Where the devil were you this morning, anyway?" he asked, remembering the start to all this mess.

"Running," she shrugged back, turning her head on the pillow to see him. He had a funny expression on his face that was framed by a wild tangle of hair.

"From what?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just for the sake of running. Don't you all ever exercise?" she asked, the thought startling and new to her. There were so many differences between mortal and immortal existence.

"We don't really have the need," he shrugged in return. Sarah noted the tawny muscles of his arms and chest. Of course.

Nodding, she turned back to look up into the canopy, and Loki's lolling tongue. "Now what?"

"I'm not sure. He is being particularly rude this morning," he shot towards the dog darkly, "considering the fact that you have lessons."

"Lessons!" Sarah shrieked in panic. "Oh no, I can't be late, Loki, please!" She struggled against her captor fruitlessly. It was like a nightmare where you were late for school but did not seem to own any pants. "Loki!"

Jareth laughed at her struggle. "You aren't making much progress."

"Well, can't you _do_ something? I don't want to be late for my first lesson!" Distractedly she tugged at tufts of fur.

"You won't be," came a musical voice from the doorway.

"Lady Aska!" the two prisoners exclaimed in unison. She smothered her smile at their predicament and lingered in the doorway.

"Loki, I should warn you that Adamo can prepare a bath at any moment. A large, _dog-sized_, bath."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the dog shrunk rapidly to a chihuahua and leaped from the bed. He skittered around Lady Aska's skirts to the hall beyond, his whimpers echoing off the walls. "Better?" she asked with a smirk.

"Much. Thank you," Sarah sighed, scrambling from the bed and Jareth.

"Why didn't I think off that?" he muttered, massaging his sore limbs.

"You can come in now, Adele," Aska said, turning back around the corner of the door frame. The girl came in bearing a tray laden with fruit and warm bread. "I thought we'd take breakfast up here, Sarah. After all, this is where we need to begin today." Sarah nodded.

"Jareth." He turned from eyeing the food hungrily. "We will see you after lunch, I expect. Now shoo-we have work to do." Quickly she took a firm hold of his shoulders and steered his scowling face to the hall. When the door was shut she leaned against it in exaggerated fatigue. "Never thought we'd get rid of 'im!" she mouthed, and Sarah clapped a hand over her own lips to still the laughter. Aska motioned to the table where they both sat to eat. Adele had set a small one up quietly beneath the wide window. The watery sunlight trickled in, bringing the new day with it.

The hours went by relatively fast, but Sarah's head was swimming. So far Aska had managed table manners, proper greetings depending on rank and social class, appropriate clothing for select occasions, and some speech skills. Now they were on presence-the simple ability to carry yourself with regal grace.

"You are courting a king, Sarah!" The words hit her hard, somewhere in her gut, realization a sickening swipe. She was no match for this. "You have to show everyone that you are equals, that you are as powerful as he and worthy of his kingdom. Now, try it again."

'_For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great!'_

A spark, a fire long hidden, flared inside her. Shoulders square, chin high, Sarah paraded about the room, skillfully maneuvering the heavy volume atop her head.

Aska clapped in delight. "Good, good! Rest for a moment...whoo!" she exclaimed, falling into a chair. "What a morning!"

"Agreed," Sarah said, sitting on her bed. They had made it back up(with a little magic, of course) after the fiasco.

"I do believe dear Jareth has met his match," the lady said sagely. "No wonder he waited all those years." Her eyes wondered out the window.

"What do you mean?" Sarah's voice had gone small, forsaking the morning's lessons.

Aska turned back to her, suddenly serious and guarded. She sighed and settled herself more comfortably. "Well..."

"Aska..."

"Oh, alright. You were going to find out sooner or later." She closed her eyes and rubbed a temple. "I don't know when Jareth planned on telling you this, but now is as good a time as any.

The anniversary you are going to celebrate is that of Marraine, a great ally to the Goblin Kingdom. The ruler there is Queen Irene. She and Jareth were...once betrothed." She waited, watching the girl's reaction.

"Go on," she prompted, face a mask, but inside something had pricked her sharply.

"Of course, such things are often done in times of great need. It was during a long-forgotten war, when the two were mere children. As soon as Jareth became king he absolved the arrangement. He never trusted her-my guess is because there are rumors that she took in the Dark Dreams. The ones that were banished from the Labyrinth and all other civilized dwellings."

"Dark Dreams," Sarah repeated, thinking back to the history lesson at her house.

Aska nodded. "Anyhow, he swore Irene was bent on conquering the Labyrinth for her own. No one else believed him, of course, thought it was absurd. But the war was over and the marriage unnecessary. So the High Court overlooked it and moved on."

Sarah nodded slowly, putting it all together in her head.

"And he's never taken a fancy to anyone since. Said when he'd met the right girl, his equal in every way and the best for the kingdom, he'd know," she finished, slumping satisfied into her chair. "You must be that girl," she mused quietly at Sarah, whose eyes were roaming the floor in thought.

"Aska, do you mind if we take a break? I think I need some fresh air," Sarah asked, trying not to sound strangled.

The lady, having had centuries of practice on reading people, could see the wheels turning in the girl's head. "Of course. There is something much more fun we can do later, anyway."

Sarah walked without any real direction, simply went where her feet took her. Eventually she came to her garden, watered the flowers, then left without seeing that there were well over four-hundred now. Her mind was too full.

'_But the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and had given her certain powers.'_

She shook her head. Undoubtedly he showered her with affection and was friendly enough. But love? Love was a strong word with consequences. Love was passion-she nearly stumbled at that-and trust, and devotion, and...

Finally she came to a halt on a stone bench somewhere. Sarah did not care where. It was quiet enough, pleasant enough. She looked at her trembling fingers and thought. Hard.

'I like the smell of him, the feel of him, the sound of his voice. He's dangerously handsome and debonair. There is a certain amount of...companionship there. But love?' She was thinking in circles.

The consequences of 'love' were not new to Sarah Williams. It was a heady emotion that could make you fly face-first into just about anything. She had experienced her fair share of relationships, but they had all ended somewhat badly. Always there was a characteristic missing. A cheeky smile, or twinkling eye, or- She stopped herself. No. Argh, she didn't know. Groaning, she put her head on her knees. And what about Jareth? What was he thinking? Aska had said he would wait for the one that was his equal and suited to the task of ruling by his side. That could not be her, and yet...he was courting her. Yes, for her safety, but his attention was far too sincere.

After a while of thinking things through, Sarah came to the realization that she certainly did desire him. Her racing pulse gave it way just thinking about his golden hair, the light kiss days before. Was that all she felt for him? That simple, animalistic need? She wondered...

"You've been awfully hard to find today, Sarah," came a smooth voice from behind her. She stilled those thoughts, suddenly hyper aware of his presence. Jareth sat softly on the bench by her side. "Why are you worried?"

She couldn't look at him, recent musings too fresh in her mind. "Not worried, my mind's just a bit...full. From lessons," she added, carefully studying the grass.

"I see," he said, but his tone was unconvinced. She was clearly avoiding him. He kept his distance for fear that she would run like a startled deer. "Do you know where you are?"

Sarah raised her head, puzzled. She hadn't even noticed that she'd wondered into the Labyrinth, into a secluded forest.

"It's the Pondering Wood," he smiled. "It shows up when someone is thinking too hard." Desperately he wished to know what kept her so silent, but did not press the issue. "I can take you back to the castle if you like. Or leave you to your thoughts." His voice was so quiet she almost missed it.

Sarah decided in that instant that there were no labels for her feelings toward Jareth. After all, she'd only remembered him for a few days. But moping would not make it any clearer. So she reached for the hand in his lap.

"I think Lady Aska will wonder what I've been up to," she thought aloud to the sky.

'As do I,' Jareth agreed as they transported.

It was simply an empty room. There was no purpose for it, but if only for the reason that someday the space might be needed. Like today.

Their shoes clicked on the polished stone as they moved to the center. "Jareth, would you do the honors?" Aska asked, and he spun a crystal in his fingers and handed it over. "Thank you. Now, let me see." She stared intently into the glassy depths. "Ah, yes." With a tap of her finger on the top of the orb it rose slowly out of her palm and hovered in the air above their heads. An airy tune filled the room, as if an entire orchestra was with them. A waltz.

"Sarah, may I have this dance?" Jareth extended a gloved toward her with a bow. She curtsied, unsuccessfully hiding the smile in her eyes.

"I would be honored, your majesty." At once she was swept away by his arms. Aska marveled at how they looked together, dancing effortlessly. The movement was as fluid as a single person.

Sarah couldn't deny her hammering pulse at the feel of his hand on her waist, or hers on his shoulder. They never dropped gaze while spinning. It amazed her how different it was dancing with Jareth now than it had been Aboveground. Here the air was thick with magic, and he was so much more himself. She preferred it, definitely. The look in his eyes was still the same of the Goblin King six years earlier, an insistent sparkle, but not as demanding. She was losing herself in the waltz.

"You've danced before?" Jareth asked, impressed by the grace and ease with which she moved.

"I took lessons at school. Actresses are honing more and more skills these days-besides, I love to dance." Well, he certainly already knew that. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to pull her closer, to let his senses overwhelm him. This proximity was already almost too much. But he managed. Keeping to his gentlemanly code was proving far more difficult than he anticipated, and it shocked him to think that this level of self-restraint meant something. He wanted her trust bad enough that he was willing to forego his own desires. It baffled him.

The dance came to a wavering end, with the couple bowing to each other on the last note. Aska clapped appreciatively.

"Well, that's one down. Now you only have to learn about a hundred more of-" He froze, eyes glazing over, smirk dropping.

"Jareth?" Sarah asked urgently and reached out a hand, but snapped it back as he came to.

"Ah..." Absently he rubbed his forehead. "Duty calls." Damn timing, he cursed. "Forgive me for taking leave so suddenly, but you understand. Lady Aska, Sarah." Then he simply vanished, the smell of summer rain lingering.

"Funny," Sarah said to the spot he had just occupied. "All this time I've been here, and he hasn't been called away once until now."

"I'm afraid dreams are few and far between these days, Sarah," Aska replied sadly. She nodded.

Seconds later lessons resumed with Adamo as a substitute for Jareth. She learned a few lively dances, the advisor carrying on most of the time. But, ah! He needed to rest his back(a wink). Best not to wear out the old man, eh? And so they gave up for the day, Sarah wondering until her thoughts were a loud buzz.

Try as she might, sleep eluded her. A rousing game of chess with Adamo(whom she lost rather badly to) had her brain awake and in overdrive again. Jareth had not returned, even after dinner. Sarah looked to the moon hanging delicately in the blue-black night like one of his crystals. If she could, she would go back to the Pondering Wood, but no doubt would get hopelessly lost in the Labyrinth.

So she picked up a candle in its holder, the only light still left in her room, and snuck out the door. Sarah's ghostly figure traversed the empty passages of the castle for at least an hour before she found the staircase. Belatedly she feared the door would be locked, but it mercifully swung open at her touch.

She did not hesitate at the second door, the one to the impossible floating hall and piano. Closing it softly behind her, she laid the candle a little ways from the entryway-she wouldn't risk it near the instrument.

When she sat, Sarah was not quite sure what to do with herself. She got the impression that if she played no one else would hear, though the sound might escape through the windows. Shrugging once, she laid her fingers atop the keys and played. At first it was just a series of exercises. But soon the patterns grew in intricacy and melted into a song. She couldn't help it when the singing began.

_Come away with me in the night  
__Come away with me  
__And I will write you a song  
_

_Come away with me on a bus  
__Come away where they can't temp us  
__With their lies_

The darkness stopped its prowling, writhing in pain at the beautiful noise. Melodious and wistful, that pleading tone was twisting like a knife in its mind. Stumbling, it ran back the way it had come, trying to get as far away from the song as possible. It had been so close...another night and it would reach its goal.

_And I wanna walk with you  
__On a cloudy day  
__In fields where they yellow grass grows knee-high  
__So won't you try to come_

Jareth had reappeared in his study exhausted. Relocating dreams was a difficult task...

The sound was so muffled, and he so tired, that at first it escaped him. But when he listened more closely Jareth heard the sounds of the piano. Smiling, he climbed the stairs to the second level. He was about to open the door, already twisting the handle, when he heard her sing.

_Come away with me and we'll kiss  
__On a mountain top  
__Come away with me  
__And I'll never stop loving you_

_I wanna wake up with the rain  
__Falling on a tin roof  
__While I'm safe there in your arms_

_So all I ask is for you  
__To come away with me in the night  
__Come away with me_

He couldn't guess how long he stood there, listening to the last dying notes. Something shuddered inside his chest, warm and free and suddenly very awake. She couldn't possibly mean that, mean those words...

Minutes, or perhaps hours later, he pushed the door open to find Sarah asleep, curled into a tiny ball on the piano stool. She didn't stir as he transported her to the leather couch in the study, and didn't seem to mind as he worked by the candlelight she had brought.


	12. XII: Deceptions for Dreams

_My word...it's been so long. Too long, since I've updated this story. I must confess to a certain amount of neglect, which I blame on _Limbo._ Besides that, I've been keeping secrets from you...another story in the works. Yes, yes, I know. Another one. But this is why it hasn't been posted yet. I barely trusted myself with two stories at a time, let alone three. But _Limbo _is finished, so... Hmm. Anywho, look for more updates from me, both for _Of Catalysts and Dreams_, and _Lethe's Fool_, the newer story. Not sure when that one will debut. Meanwhile, enjoy this little update, and hopefully I'll be bringing you something fresh soon. ;)_

_E. Jane_

_P.S. I contemplated upping the rating for this one...not entirely certain, though. Maybe later...feedback?_

* * *

XII

Deceptions for Dreams

It rained in thick sheets, covering the Goblin City and Labyrinth in deep puddles. Everyone stayed indoors, where the fire was warm and the food was dry. Sarah had not known that it _could_ rain here, even though the thought was absurd. Even the Underground had weather.

She dreamed of quills scratching over parchment all night. The storm obscured the sun, failing to wake her. When she came to, Sarah was surprised to find herself on the comfortable couch in Jareth's study instead of the piano bench. She should have known he would find her. After taking a moment to stretch she sat up and noticed the Goblin King slumped over his desk, atop a pile of papers. His head was buried in his arms, the stub of a candle nearby. He must have stayed up, working...

Drawn to his suddenly vulnerable form, Sarah stole to the high-backed chair. His back rose and fell with the swell of his breath, muscles plain through his shirt, the vest discarded nearby. She surveyed him quietly, as an artist would a subject. Her hand, seeming to have a mind of its own, reached to the nape of his neck and trailed over the exposed skin there. It was like silk, she thought, continuing down his spine.

He had awakened instantly with her touch, even though the feel was light and careful. Jareth held his breath, refusing to make a sound, and waited for her to pull back. When the hand insisted on traveling the planes of his back, memorizing the curves of his body, he just barely suppressed a shudder.

Jareth shifted his head to let her know he was awake, expecting the hand to leave his back. He was surprised when she did not remove it. If anything, Sarah relaxed and closed the distance between them.

"Good morning to you, too," he muttered groggily up at her. She smiled. "Sleep well?"

Sarah nodded. "Thanks to you. I would have fallen asleep on that bench if you hadn't found me."

"Hopefully today will prove less hectic," came the yawned reply, noting her hand climb to rest on his shoulder. "The weather will make everyone a tad lethargic." Without permission Jareth drug Sarah to him, setting her neatly in his lap. "Lazy," he murmured, shutting his eyes and wrapping his arms around her.

She agreed...something in the air was causing her lids to droop. Mimicking his yawn, she asked, "The weather is doing this to us?"

He nodded, giving a faint smile at her lack of protest. "Every now and again a magical rain sweeps the Labyrinth. It helps to rejuvenate the land, let it rest." Every word slurred into the next with sleep.

"For how long?" Sarah wondered aloud, head falling into his chest, eyelids fluttering.

"Until," he yawned even wider, "it stops raining."

Before drifting off completely, Sarah realized that Jareth's neck smelled twice as sweet as the rest of him.

It was like Sleeping Beauty come true...an entire city slumbering. Of course, there were no princesses under curses, or a prince riding to her rescue. But there was an antagonist slinking through the downpour. The heavy rain had shut out the sun, making it a possibility to traverse the last stretch of the Labyrinth. As soon as the castle's inhabitants were abed, dreaming silly dreams, it would make its move. The girl must be utterly alone for the plan to succeed. How pleased his master would be with the completion of this task...

* * *

Adamo awoke to the scent of straw and horse. The rain had begun to fall during his trip to the stables, and trapped him there. He frowned and shook his head to banish the heady sleep. It seemed the dose of magic always came at an inconvenient time, and never when he was snug in bed. This particular occasion had seen him conversing with the stable hand, detailing the need for a carriage within the week. Luckily he had not succumbed to the sleep around any horses. Instead he slept standing up, which, while completely doable, left him with a crick in his neck. As Adamo winced and tried to relieve his sore muscles, Lady Aska strode purposefully into the enclosure.

"Adamo, where is Sarah? This infernal rain has robbed us of precious time. There is still so much to review..." she continued on, waving about frantically and failing to notice how close she came to whapping the stable hand.

"My dear Lady," the advisor soothed, "I'm sure if she is not with you, she is with his majesty." A mysterious twinkle passed between their eyes, but neither said anything more as Aska ran to find her charge.

Anyone who encountered Sarah that day could feel nothing but pity. She had not bargained for these trials, or asked that the entire history and culture of the Underground be forced down her throat. Although she worked as hard as any determined soul could, she felt an impending explosion from her warped mind. Hopefully all the preparation would not backfire...she might end up with her silverware in her ears, or worse.

Aska did all she could to alleviate the girl's worry. After all, she was making excellent progress. Whether or not Sarah could tell was a different matter entirely. Jareth was going to owe her for this, big time.

Sarah prayed that, by some stroke of luck, instincts and polite formality would overcome any unforseen obstacles. Otherwise she was done for, along with the reputation of the Goblin City and its King.

Really, she was beginning to wonder what had possibly possessed her to agree to all this rubbish. Something stronger than guilt or obligation, certainly. A more...profound reason.

As the day faded on the Labyrinth, sparkling wet from the rain, Sarah laid her practice fan in its silken box. It nestled carefully between its many companions, each a different color and style for every occasion. Soon they would be packed away for the trip.

Aska had informed her that instead of magically appearing in Marraine, which would prove essentially effortless, the three would ride in a carriage. It was a sign of respect towards the host to temporarily set aside their powers. The sacrifice showed loyalty and honor. Sarah could almost bet that the trip would be long, uncomfortable, and awkward.

Being denied the constant friendship of another female had been hard. Lady Aska departed shortly after dinner in order to arrange her own travel to Marraine. She tried talking to Adele and making friends, when she saw her, but those moments were few and far between. Besides, the girl was too engrossed in her job to chat.

Perhaps she would bother Jareth...but, no. He had withdrawn himself all day to prepare for the trip. It occurred to Sarah that he was under quite a bit of strain from the ordeal. Running a kingdom, taking care of a mortal, and returning to a dishonored ex, who was a queen, no less. Her circumstances seemed more bearable in that light, even though she felt guilty all the same.

There was nothing left to do with the day. The sun was retreating, and her friends were nowhere to be found. Dinner, devoid of the Goblin King, was long past. No one to talk to, no place to go... She drummed her fingers on the dresser impatiently. The word "eternity" was slowly taking on new boundaries in her mind. What was she going to do with all this time? Quietly she resolved to ask after a hobby once the trip was through.

For now all Sarah could do was take the longest bath she dared and ready for bed. She stayed in the water until it cooled and wrinkled her skin, reluctantly donned a nightdress, then slid into bed. The darkness was tangible, oppressive. And she was wide awake. Fitfully she tossed and turned until exhaustion stilled her active mind and sent her dreaming.

The entire castle was feeling the effects of the week. Both regular duties and added preparations coaxed the weary inhabitants deep into slumber.

* * *

The darkness could sense that no one was awake within the castle. Hustle and bustle of the day silent, it decided that now was the opportune time to strike. With eerily specific instructions from its master, it snaked through the gardens and up the stone walls. Finally it came to a window and slithered between the cracks, for darkness, especially shadows, is quite pliable. And shadow servants are amazingly thorough in their work. Especially when provided with the proper incentive.

It snuck into Sarah's room, silently pressing into a dark corner. When it was certain she lay dreaming it began the slow transformation. Body, limbs, hair, the works. It spared no energy recreating its subject and was almost a perfect match in the end. Carefully it slunk beneath the covers and waited.

Sarah woke in the middle of the night, uncomfortably warm. Something hot persistently trickled over her neck, making her sweat beneath the sheets. She tried to simply kick them off, but they wouldn't budge. In her half-sleep she restlessly struggled and tossed until she could breathe properly again. Afterward she tried to return to sleep, but thoughts of the day and upcoming travels plagued her. Terribly awake, Sarah groaned and opened her eyes.

Thinking herself asleep after all, she surveyed the oddity of Jareth beside her. Watching. Grinning. He looked wide awake, no trace of fatigue lining his features. Groggily she noted his bare chest and they way he was propped up on one elbow. Senses jolting, she clutched the covers to her reflexively and hissed, "What the hell?"

"Now Sarah, what kind of pillow talk is that?" he purred, teeth appearing sharp in the moonlight.

Her mind reeled. "What are you doing in here?" she tried again, thinking there must be a valid cause for the invasion.

"I haven't seen you all day, love." Sarah cringed at his voice, sickly sweet, and more at the fingers cupping her cheek. "I thought you would be pleased to see me." In the back of her mind she registered the lack of gloves, the cold, strange texture of his hands...

"Well, _sure_. In the morning!" Huffing, she rolled to her other side and yanked her face away. "Geez, you have some personal space issues, do you know that?" Flustered as she was, it only seemed appropriate to be defensive. Even if she had missed him all day.

"Sarah." Her body went rigid at the sound. This was not a gentle plea for understanding. This was a demand. "Look at me." Obediently she turned back, eyes wide with fear. Her heart beat painfully behind her ribs, sending a warning she couldn't comprehend.

Quick as lightning his hands were clutching her face. Sarah barely restrained herself from recoiling. They were clammy as death, and goose pimples erupted all over her body. "What?" she managed, voice weak as water.

The hard gaze did not soften from the slanted eyes and pursed mouth. "Do not defy me, Sarah," Jareth growled, inching his face nearer. Then his lips twisted viciously at the left corner and he dove for her neck.

Sarah gasped at the punishing kiss and the fingers wondering her shoulder. She could feel the triumphant smile his mouth made at her sound of protest. Wildly she clutched at his hair, trying to find some way to push him off. This was not right, he couldn't be in his right mind... "Jareth, stop it!"

"No," he murmured huskily, trailing his lips along her jaw.

"What are you doing?" she countered. The fingers tracing her waistline should have been what she desired, should have unleashed millions of fantasies her head had harbored all along. They only terrified her.

Slowly he rose his head over hers. "What you want me to do. That's all I've ever done," he breathed and dived for her lips. But she turned at the last second, and they met her flushed cheek. Hastily she tried retreating out of his grasp, only to have him catch her leg and drag her back. Pinned beneath him, it did not help to notice that Jareth was very strong for such a lithe build. All she could do was clutch the sheets in horror, knuckles white, and shudder as his hands explored her leg.

"Jareth, please," she moaned, tear tracks forming on her face. It wasn't fair, it wasn't, that she had fallen into an ethereal world with a king that made her heart skip. Her feelings were too raw for this, too foreign to differentiate between what she wanted and what she needed.

Delighted by her fear, he simply pushed her farther into the bed. Mortified by the hungry look on his face, she shut her eyes. This was not ever supposed to happen... "You promised," she tried, knowing it would fail.

The laugh that followed was harsh and unfamiliar. Her body trembled at the unwanted exploration of his fingers. "None of that," he nearly growled. "Promises are meant for breaking." A small shriek of terror escaped Sarah as his hands found the hem of her nightdress and yanked it upward. Terrible ripping noises assaulted her ears. Surprised, she arched her back and his other hand slipped underneath, claw-like nails shredding the fabric to ribbons and penetrating to delicate skin. Sarah cried openly, confused, hurt. Betrayed.

"Give yourself to me, Sarah," he was saying. "Mind, body, and soul. Give me your dreams..." But she wasn't listening. There was no way to wrestle free, though she tried. Her nails dug deep into the skin of his forearms. "Give me your dreams," he repeated, slipping his hands farther under her dress. "Sarah..."

She did open her eyes then, at those strange words. Something clicked as she searched his ravenous face. His eyes...they were dark, like two black holes. Obsidian, cold orbs. Not like the mismatched ones she knew.

Distracted by his mission, the shadow servant did not see the girl bravely fill her lungs with air, but he did hear the shout that followed.

"_Jareth_!"

"Little tramp!" the impostor spat, raising a hand to subdue her back into silence, but Sarah was too fast. Deftly she grabbed the ornate clock from her bedside table, hands reading into the wee hours of the morning, and smashed it into the side of his head. Momentarily stunned, his firm hold released and she wriggled herself up and away.

Springing to the corner of the bed, she threw everything within her grasp at the offending figure. It was an angry whirl of objects, tangled fabrics, but the dark distorted her aim. The shadow was unnaturally flexible, dodging every item thrown his way.

* * *

Jareth stirred before catapulting from his luxurious bed. Someone was calling him...

With a scream Sarah jumped away from the shadow servant. Using her bed curtains, she swung down and onto the floor, ripping them from the hangings in the process. The impostor vanished beneath the tangled folds and did not move. Breathing heavily, she hoped that the vase she'd just launched had at least knocked him unconscious for the time being.

"Sarah!"

She whirled around, instinctively grabbing a nearby candelabra, and thrusting it at the voice. Under her hand she felt it connect solidly. The figure in the dark crumbled to the floor. Relieved, Sarah leaned against the far wall and let the weapon fall from her hands. Silence swarming around her, buzzing in her ears, made her shiver.

"What's going on?" Pulse jumping slightly, she turned around to find a rumpled Jareth standing behind her. Without thinking, a sudden wave of tears flooding her eyes, she flung herself into his waiting arms. Incoherent mumbles of terror were muffled by his chest.

Behind them something shifted along the floor, groaning. Seeing his opportunity fading away, the shadow servant clutched the girl in his arms and spun her into a wall.

"Wha..." Sarah gulped, then noticed the Goblin King, the real Jareth, rising from the floor with the help of the bed.

Before she could scream bloody murder, the impostor swiftly grabbed her leg behind the knee and wrapped it around his waist. "I have tried to be reasonable, precious. Say you are mine and relinquish your dreams to me."

Trapped by this monster and the wall, Sarah tried to yell for Jareth again, or reach something heavy, only to have lips crush onto hers.

Jareth leaned heavily against the bed and rubbed his sore head. Slightly disoriented, it wasn't until a few moments had passed that he noticed the other two impassioned figures in the room.

Then there was Sarah, wrapped securely around someone who looked...an awful lot like...

Something snapped. Cracked. Shattered. The Goblin King's veins roared with an alien surge of fire and a bestial noise spilled from his throat. Lurching across the room, he tore the man off of the girl and, with one hard fling, sent him crashing through the glass window.

Sarah crumpled in a daze, barely registering the floor beneath her, but saw a streak of movement. Beyond the window two others were grappling.

Jareth smashed the shadow servant into the railing of Sarah's balcony. One ungloved hand pressed deep into its windpipe, causing it to arch its back far over into empty night air. "Who sent you?" he roared.

Unaffected, the shadow merely pushed off from the stone balcony, tipped over backwards and fell away from Jareth's hands. He grabbed futilely once at the air, but it had already melted away.

Another roar sounded from him before he was able to extinguish the fire in his eyes. Jerkily he stalked back inside, only to find Sarah huddled still on the floor. His heart plummeted. "What have I done?" he breathed, standing useless amongst the shards of glass. Gingerly he began to approach her, reaching out a hand to lay on her shoulder. "Sarah-"

"Don't touch me!" she screeched, scooting up and flinching away. Her breath came in small, short gasps, face wet and pale. Mind in overdrive, all that she could perceive of Jareth was an assaulter and attacker. But his hurt expression reminded her that she was far more at fault than he. "Jareth, I'm sorry." The words choked out of her with strain.

He gathered her to him tightly, kneeling on the floor. "None of this was your fault. Are you hurt?" Jareth's voice was soft, nearly as frightened as she was.

That only made her cry harder and bury her face in his chest. This was definitely the real Goblin King. His unique scent washed her inside and out, warmth from his labored breathing tickling her shoulder. Her voice did not work, so she did not answer, though her back burned painfully from the scratches.

Not knowing what to possibly say, he smoothed her tangled hair. Beneath his heartbeat he could feel her own, fluttering wildly. As soon as she had seemed to calm, silent, she jerked away from his touch.

"What is it?" he asked, clearly shocked.

"I've got to get out of here," she answered shakily. "Jareth, please," she clutched his arm in agony, "just get me out!"

His world came crashing around his ears, but he could not deny the logic of it all. "Of course, I understand. I'll take you Aboveground right away."

Mouth agape, Sarah stared in horror. "What? No!" For emphasis she surveyed the decimated surroundings. "I need to get out of this room!" she wailed, jumping to her feet.

Somehow immensely relieved, and yet startled by her raise in volume, he rose also.

"I don't care where, I'll sleep in the gutter," Sarah continued, "I just need out." Too overcome to trust herself with anymore talking, she covered her face and let it disappear into his chest again.

Gently Jareth scooped her up and transported them. There was only one other room furnished, seeing as how Sarah's had been specially made, and the Labyrinth did not house many guests. Inwardly he berated himself for letting the goblins do what they pleased in the other vacant rooms. By all rights there should have been dozens of sleeping quarters.

When she was sitting on the soft bed Sarah opened her eyes and immediately regretted her words. But what's said is said.

"They're the only unoccupied quarters in the castle," he apologized. "I'll sleep in the study until you have a proper room again."

Sarah shook her head. This was nuts. Obviously these quarters _were_ already occupied. His outline towered above hers in the strange, deep dark. "No," she said simply, voice suddenly strong. Then, wavering slightly, "I can't be alone, not after that... Dear God..." The full weight of the incident hit her. "Please don't leave me, he'll only come back..."

Silently he sat beside her and produced a crystal. It shone in the weak light like an illusion. Soundlessly he picked up the locket dangling from around her neck and pried it open. Transfixed, she watched as the orb shrunk, then liquified before her eyes. Jareth poured it straight from his palm into the open locket where it solidified into a sheet of glass. A mirror.

"There," he said gently. "As long as you have this, no dark creature can harm you. I won't be long, I swear." The increasing fear in her eyes alarmed him. "I must notify Adamo."

She nodded mutely. Of course. A monster was out, somewhere in the Labyrinth. It must be taken care of...

With a pang Jareth cradled one of her hands in his own. "Sarah, there are not words. I promised to protect you and failed."

Worn, torn further by his distress, she removed her hand from his own and placed it on his cheek. "There's nothing to forgive," she insisted.

The soft gesture was enough to make Jareth waver between his duty and another dangerous calling. Removing the hand with his own, he kissed the back and said, "I'll be right back." She nodded, and he disappeared.

Suddenly very alone, images flooded her mind of the attack. Enraged, hurt, scared, she looked down to her night clothes. It was no more than a rag now, the yellow silk ripped up her hip on one side and down her back. Angrily she tore it from her frame and tossed it away, wanting free of it as much as her room. That poor beautiful room...and she kept seeing Jareth's face, hungry with malice...

She pulled a long sheet from the bed and wrapped herself in it tightly. All pretenses gone, she sunk into the bed, fatigued and scrambled. Sleep was nowhere near. Fear dominated her senses and pushed slumber into an unreachable corner. Feeling very alone and bereft, Sarah curled up into the tiniest ball possible. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, she would disappear altogether.


End file.
